


The Crimson Tide

by mosomacilany, Ophiel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Children, Drama, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Friendship, Loss, Red Lyrium, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 121,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosomacilany/pseuds/mosomacilany, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The City of Denerim is in the midst of a revolution. Philosophy and industry reform the lives of the people in the dawn of a new age of progress and enlightenment. A darkness shall come crimson upon the world, a tide that only fools seek to stem. </p><p>But the city is not without those who will stand against the chaos. Solona Amell is a brilliant engineer, a pioneer of flight, mechanics and chemistry. Ariris Lavellan is the most desirable courtesan in all of Denerim and Evelyn Trevelyan is a masterful swordsman and pilot, even if to most she is nothing more than the spoiled child of a rich man. </p><p>These three feel the turning of the tides and rise to stop it. But the city itself stands against them as Detective Alistair from the Yard, Captain Cullen of the City Guard and the enigmatic Father Solas provide a deeper challenge, their history.</p><p>It takes a common enemy to bring these lives together-- and show them that the ties that bind them are the most dangerous threat of all. </p><p>(This story, while having many light hearted and fun moments, explores extremely dark themes. The intensity of subject matter increases as the story unfolds, so please be aware and take note of tags and that additional warnings apply.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Baroness

 

 

 

The ball was everything dreams were made off. In Denerim’s palace ballroom, ornately decorated in the fashion of Orlais with fine golden filigree in the walls, the floors paved with stone from Antiva, and drapes from Nevarra, was filled with nobles and notables of society. It was the Queen Mother’s birthday, and all the elites had turned up for the ball. Some more willingly than others. Captain Cullen Rutherford did not want to be here. He hated his parade uniform for a start. The braids drove him wild to put on, and he really should have let the chest out a bit. He scowled faintly as he stood by the wall, nursing his drink and hoping the night would mercifully end upon the Queen Mother’s departure.

 

The Queen Mother herself was aged, smiling amiably at the dance floor from her throne, flanked by palace guards in their ornamental breastplates over their uniforms. That was a mercy at least. Cullen was a Captain of the Queen’s Guard, and thus spared from the toy armour. While he was not officially in charge of the Guard, Cullen knew who did all the work.

 

He caught a noblewoman coming towards him and he sipped his drink, trying to appear preoccupied and heading the other way, holding his sword pommel as he walked. The sword was part of the uniform, the uniform was part of the problem. Being a Captain, the extra braids meant the noblewomen were a little more… forward.

 

He turned a corner in the crowd and froze as a noblewoman stepped out in his path. “Pardon me, my lady,” he said politely.

 

“Running off in the middle of the party?” smiled the woman, her perfume cloying to Cullen.

 

Cullen’s mind raced for an escape. “No, my lady,” he said, forcing a smile. “Merely looking for Lord Guerrin.”

 

“Ah, Lord Guerrin,” she said. “How fares dear Eamon?”

 

She wasn’t letting him go. “He is doing well, my lady,” he replied politely. Be polite. Always polite and run at the first opportunity. “Lady Isolde is taking care of him.”

 

“Isn’t love wonderful?” the noblewoman smiled.

 

“Yes,” Cullen said, his voice neutral.

 

“Though his illness must leave you with most of the work,” she mused. “He is the Commander of the Guard, after all.”

 

“He has served loyally for many years,” Cullen said, coming to his old mentor’s defence. “I am happy to put into practice what he has taught me.”

 

“Indeed,” she beamed. Her closed fan touched the braids across his chest and his skin crawled. “So fresh and new in the role of Captain, and already indispensable, so I hear.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Cullen smiled, politely moving her fan from his chest. “We all do our duty, my lady.”

 

She looked at him in that way, like a cat sizing up its prey. He had to get away. “I shou--”

 

“You are very humble, Captain Rutherford,” she said, her smile changing into something more predatory. “Would you like to ask me to dance?”

 

“No,” he said a little more firmly than he intended. “Forgive me, my lady, I must find Lord Guerrin. A matter of urgency.”

 

“How exciting,” she chirped. “Guard business?”

 

“It always is,” he bowed and headed away through an open side door. He took a breath and made his way to the gardens for a breath of fresh air. He just wished he knew where he was damn well going. He blinked when he realized the corridor opened to another hallway lined with busts of kings long dead and towering paintings. He tried to backtrack to the door he came through. Where it was ajar when he stepped through, it was now shut. Cullen tried the door handle. It was locked. He swore, feeling like an absolute tit standing there with his glass in hand in front of a locked door.

 

He stepped away and walked back down the corridor, looking for another way into the ballroom or, hopefully, out of this place. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be there. He walked for a while - the palace was huge. The guards who eyed him saw his uniform and let him pass, assuming that he had reason to be there. If they were his guards, he would have words to say to them. He could feel fresh air from around the corner. Perhaps he could get back in through the gardens. He held his now empty glass and turned the corner into a dimly lit corridor. He bumped right into a vision of cloth and feathers coming the other way, the glass shattering on the floor as the woman fell back onto the ground. “Maker!” he exclaimed.

 

The woman winced on the ground. Cullen held his hand out to her. “Forgive me, I am terribly sorry!” he exclaimed, helping her up. She was short, her head barely reaching over his shoulders. Her bustle dress of blue and silver was elegant, her head dress adorned with feathers and a half veil.

 

“It’s fine,” she said, wincing as she looked at her hand. Her glove was torn and already staining with blood.

 

“Maker’s breath,” he frowned as he took her wrist, turning her hand over to see the cut. Her hand must have landed on a shard as she broke her fall. He sighed, blushing and feeling like a fool. He put his hand over the wound, her blood soaking his white glove. “Please, let me help you--” He looked up.

 

“No, really,” he heard her saying, then a guard walked by. They might as well be useful to him then. “You!” he barked, command in his voice. The guard froze and saluted instantly, reacting to the tone before the words. “Get me a healing kit! Now!” The guard saluted and hurried off.

 

He turned to see her looking up at him. Her eyes were blue and quite large. She looked like a doll. There were balconies that lined the corridor. “Please, this way,” he said, leading her out into the moonlight. Her eyes were thoughtful as she followed him. In the bright moonlight, he sat her down on a stone bench and sat next to her, bending over her hand. He suddenly realized he was holding her hand in a way far too familiar than he was allowed. He looked up at her guiltily. She only watched him, her face impassive. Cullen glanced away. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said again.

 

“It was an accident,” she said, smiling at him with her eyes now. “I’d say ‘no harm done,’ but…”

 

He smirked slightly at her words. The guard jogged over with a healing kit. “Good man,” Cullen said. “Dismissed.” The guard saluted and left them. Cullen took his hand off hers, his glove soaked with her blood. He pulled off his gloves and opened the healing kit on the bench. “Could you take off your glove, my lady?” he asked her.

 

“Of course, Captain,” she said and began to carefully take her glove off.

 

“You know me?” he asked as he drew his ceremonial dagger from his hip.

 

“I know of you,” she replied, setting aside her bloody glove. “My friends cry themselves to sleep sighing your name, Captain Cullen.”

 

Cullen rolled his eyes and shook his head. “And you do not?” he asked as she set her bare hand in his palm. He could see the glint of a piece of glass in the wound.

 

“You’re going to dig out glass from my hand with a dagger,” she said. “I’m not going to say yes.”

 

Cullen stopped his chuckle in time. This was his fault, mostly. She had wit. “If I don’t, it’ll fester,” he said apologetically. “Or I could just--”

 

“It’s fine, Captain,” she said with a smile. “I’m a big girl.”

 

He turned to the wound and opened with his thumb as he held her hand. She hissed as the tip of the dagger entered her gently. He felt her tense as the tip pulled out the shard. Cullen set the dagger down and pulled out the shard. “I’m afraid it’s not over,” he said, taking the iodine from the kit. Taking care not to dirty her dress, Cullen poured the iodine over her wound. “Argh - fuck!” she swore. “I hate that part.”

 

Cullen was a little surprised, but focused on his task. With gentle hands, he started to bandage her wound. “You hate that part?” he asked as he dressed her wound. “You’ve must have had an interesting set of hobbies to know the iodine part of cleaning a wound.”

 

“Noble ladies don’t usually get hurt do they?” she smiled. “Why hobbies?”

 

“Because your fingers are calloused,” he said. “Either archery or fencing, I wager.”

 

“Dashing and clever,” she teased.

 

“Allegedly,” he smiled slightly. She smelled nice. All noble women smelled nice, but rarely was he so close to one to notice it. “What is your name, my lady?”

 

“Evelyn Trevelyan.”

 

He looked up at her in surprise. “Of Trevelyan Industries?”

 

“My father,” she admitted.

 

That was a surprise. Rarely did Baronesses leave out their titles in their introductions. Then again, rarely did baronesses use swords and bows. Were they bows or guns? He eyed her calluses in puzzlement, then wrapped them away with the bandages. Not only that, he had heard stories of the boyish daughter of Baron Trevelyan, but this woman was not what he expected. “It is an honour to meet you, Baroness,” he said. “Though I wish it were under less bloody circumstances.”

 

She tittered. “How did you know I fenced, Captain?”

 

“Your calluses, my lady,” he said, tying the knot on the bandage. He held up his bare hand, showing her the calluses on his own palm. “They are familiar to me.”

 

“You fence?” she asked.

 

“No, my sword use is a bit more practical.” He started to keep away the kit.

 

“Would you like to try?” she asked.

 

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he admitted.

 

“Pointy end goes in the other guy.”

 

He laughed.

 

“You should come by the Dawson’s Sword Club this Friday evening,” she said. “I am often there.”

 

“I-I really shouldn’t,” he said.

 

“Because I’m a Baroness?” she asked. She smiled at him warmly. “Fencing is not just for fun, Captain Cullen. Should push come to shove, it would allow a woman to defend herself. I would like to know how I face against a more experienced swordsman. Preferably one who knows how ruffians fight. I just thought you could do me the favour.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to come,” she said. “It was just a thought.” She stood up, holding her bandaged hand.

 

He stood up, sheathing his dagger and taking his bloody glove. They heard fanfare in the distance. “It appears the Queen Mother has departed,” he said.

 

“Yes, we missed that,” Evelyn replied. He stood beside her and offered her his arm. She looked up at him in slight surprise. She smiled then and slipped her arm in his. “Would you like me to show you back to the ballroom?” she asked.

 

“Was it that obvious?” he winced.

 

She laughed and pat his arm gently with her good hand. “A little, Captain,” she said.

 

“I did get turned around in here,” he sighed. They walked into the hallway as she led him gently along. She didn’t act like… a noble. That was odd. Cullen knew her by reputation, often hearing that Baron Trevelyan had wanted a son, but his wife passed on. so his daughter became one instead. Which was foolish, now that he looked at her. She was genteel, but with a strange sense of humour and a surprising lack of squeamishness to the prospect of him digging out glass from her wound with a dagger.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked as they walked down a more brightly lit hallway.

 

“I was thinking about you,” he said. He caught her glance and realised the way that came out. “I mean-- about what happened to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “It must have hurt, taking the glass out. But you didn’t even-- your tolerance for pain is high, Lady Trevelyan.”

 

She smiled up at him in amusement. She really was very small. “It did hurt,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I have to cry about it. Besides, you were very gentle. I was not expecting that.” She opened a door and golden light spilled out into the hallway. “Here we are,” she smiled, letting go of his arm. He stepped into the light. “And Captain,” she said. “Call me Evelyn.”

 

He felt an odd bubbling feeling inside him. He set his hand across his chest and bowed to her as she curtseyed with grace, despite the injured hand. “Thank you, Evelyn,” he said. Her blue eyes were impish as she straightened up, their gazes locked. Cullen’s heart beat a little faster. “Good evening, Captain,” she purred and shut the door behind her.

 

++++

 

Evelyn made her way away from the door quickly and back to a quiet portion of the palace floor. “Well?” she heard and jumped. She sighed and turned around. There, standing in the middle of the hall was a girl even smaller than Evelyn. Messy blonde hair poked out from under a cap and her clothes were the garb of a boy. She was also none too clean.

 

“You were only supposed to lock him out so I could run into him, Sera!” Evelyn snapped. “I wasn’t expecting to be shoved.”

 

“Got you talking to him, didn’t it?” She dug her ear. “What’s your read on the lug?”

 

“He’s possibly going to be difficult,” Evelyn said seriously. “He will do what’s right.”

 

“Can’t see how that’s a bad thing, yeah?”

 

“I didn’t say it was bad. I said it was difficult.”

 

“So we on for this then?”

 

“If we can work around him.” Evelyn looked at her bandaged hand. “Really, you should have asked Ari. She’s better at reading men than I am.”

 

“That’s because you keep kicking them in the balls.” Sera dug her finger into her ear and wiggled it about. “Probably should spend time talking to them before you poke their eyes out, yeah?”

 

“Talking to men is not why you need me,” Evelyn frowned.

 

“Too cockin’ right,” said Sera. "And you asked him out. Thank me."

 

"That was research!" Evelyn hissed, blushing.

 

"Hah! Research! Right! Making kissy faces at the Captain!" Sera bent, making a face that made her look like a fish.

 

Evelyn gave up and laughed. "No kissy faces," she said. Not yet, she added in the privacy of her own mind. The lug was handsome, for certain.

 

"Right, right," Sera grinned in disbelief. "Well, it's a go I guess. See you at the place then, Trevvy! This will be grand!” And she ran off down the corridor, vanishing from sight.


	2. The Girl in the Rain

Alistair took his strides fast as passed through the park. The day was windy and fairly cold considering it was springtime. But at least there was no fog. He was fed up with fog that had covered the city of Denerim for a week now, enveloping everything in milk-white daze, washing the colors away into greyscale.

He was on his way to a new crime scene. Since the Chief Meredith had taken the red lyrium smuggling case from him, he only got robberies and petty crimes.

Six break-ins in two weeks. All follows the same pattern. No traces, no sign of forced entry. And all the victims were well-respected nobles and dignitaries. And nothing valuable disappeared, or nothing that the owner dared to admit.

They had taken away the drug case from him in that very moment he linked the smugglings together and pointed out one suspect. And this was enough reason to make him sure he was right. And as more break-ins were reported he was more sure that they are connected to the red lyrium in some way. It couldn’t be a coincidence, he felt it in his guts.

He ran through his notes once again. As his legs followed the gravel path and his other hand tried to hold the hat on his head what the roaring wind wanted to blow away adamantly, just like his tattered notebook in his other hand. He felt the coming rain shower in the air, that unmistakable scent of ozone that heralded it. Even if the sky was sparkling blue, he knew it could catch him by any minute.

"I should have taken a coach,” he grumbled as looked up on the sky and saw the towering black clouds that slowly but steady swallowed the shining sun. And from the distance, he heard the thundering echoing.

He sped up his strides to reach the edge of the park by the time the storm arrived, or to reach some safe place from the raindrops. The wind brought the storm clouds threateningly fast, and soon the sun darkened and he felt the cold raindrops falling on his face; every second more and more until finally a thick curtain of rain soaked the ground and his dingy coat.

He ran to the stone gazebo at the rosebushes, the nearest shelter his eyes caught to tide over the spring shower, which usually went as fast as it came. And he could continue his way to the crime scene.

“Andraste’s fucking knickers; I knew I should have brought an umbrella,” he cursed as jumped under the protecting roof of the gazebo, trying to wipe the water from his coat and registered that his notebook was soaked and the ink dissolved into a illegible splodge. And, of course, like many times before, he had forgotten to make a copy of his notes or bring an umbrella or do anything to prevent these accidents. He grunted and cursed himself as smashed the ruined notebook to a stone column of the gazebo. It landed just before a pair of austere but still, in some simple way, stylish pair of leather shoes.

Alistair’s eyes followed the line of the skirt belonged to the shoes, the book in the hand, the slender curve of shoulder until she met two sparkling green eyes framed by glasses, looking at him with that undefinable mix of astonishment and immeasurable superiority before she turned back to her book.

He looked through her before he reached out for his notebook. Her simple but fine clothes were dry so she did not seek a shelter from the storm. Her red hair was combed into a loose and practical bun, only a few locks was in her face. Her skin was pale, almost white, like it was never exposed to the sun. It made her freckles on her nose and cheeks significant. Overall, she made an impression of those spinsters who preached in the parks nowadays about equal rights, giving so much trouble for the patrolling policemen.

Alistair cleared his throat as picked up the ruined notebook and tried not to look at the girl’s shapely ankle what peeped out under a skirt.

“I apologize for my improper behavior, my lady,” he said as stood up, trying to hide his embarrassment. The girl looked up from her book and ran her strict eyes through him once again.

“No offense taken.” Her answer was short without any nuance of kindness in her voice, however there was something tinkling in it. “And I’m no _lady_.” She spat out the word like it was poison on her tongue and turned back to the book in her hand.

Silence descended on the little gazebo, only the sound of the pouring rain breaking it. Alistair was disgruntled with himself. Those idiots have probably already ruined his crime scene and he wouldn't be able to find any usable evidence. He opened and closed his watch nervously, as if he could rush time with it. But the pouring water did not abate, trapping him in that bloody gazebo with this stern looking spinster.

Might as well kill some time. He began to play his favorite game: 'tried to guess who the girl before him was.' He observed her closely, trying to find hints to figure her out. 

"Is something interesting on me?” she asked at some point, not even looking up at him. Alistair cleared his throat once again, trying to cover his obvious embarrassment and tried to say something witty or funny - anything to ease his situation.

“I was just thinking that it is rare to see a female medical student nowadays,” the words just poured out from him without any control. The girl closed her book and placed it on her thighs, glancing at him while adjusted her glasses meaningfully.

“Why do you think I’m a medical student?” she asked.

“I see the crest of the University of Denerim on your coat and the _‘Basics of Pharmaceutics’_ would be incomprehensible reading for anybody outside medical school,” he explained. He was always proud of his detective skills. Besides hand-to-hand fighting, this was the only thing he was skilled in.

“Brilliant deduction,” she tweeted, but there was something shudderingly sarcastic and condescending in it. “Yes, I’m a student of Denerim University, but my fields of expertise are physics, mechatronics and chemistry. I’m only interested in pharmacy in a chemical sense.” The girl’s lips turned to a smirk like she knew all secrets of the universe.

“My turn,” she beamed. “You are the officer of the Denerim Police, you probably live alone, maybe you had a sweetheart before, but she couldn’t accept that what being a policeman’s wife could mean. And before the storm hit, you were on your way to a crime scene.” Alistair’s mouth slackened for a quick moment and the smirk on her face widened. It was true. Word for word. And as he looked in her green eyes filled with unquestionable certainty, he suddenly became uneasy. She was smarter than him and she was aware of it.

“Are you curious about how I knew all that?” She inquired before he could even ask. She took away the book in her canvas bag and stood up, taking some steps toward him. “Well, I see the peeping out badge behind your coat. You are not in uniform, so you must be a detective. On the smudgy notebook there an address was visible, probably the crime scene. Two buttons were torn down from your vest. One was sewed back. It was probably your mother, but you are too handsome to not catch the eye of a silly little girl who cannot wait to be in love. But when she realized that life beside you is not a piece of cake, she left and there was nobody to sew back the other button that was torn recently.” She rattled all of it off with almost one breath. Alistair stood there speechlessly just staring the girl who defeated him in the only game he was good at.

“Did I miss something?” she asked. Alistair shook his head felt himself awkward. “Good. The rain stopped.” She stated and stepped out from the gazebo into the park made fresh by the spring shower. After a few steps, she turned back to him carelessly, with that annihilating smirk on her face.

“Oh, and here's some homework, Officer Theirin. How do I know your name?” With deliberate but light steps, she walked away, leaving him silent by the shock for a long moment before he realized he should get to that bloody crime scene.

 

++++++++++++

 

The girl tried to complete the experiment for the thousandth time that week, but something always went wrong. One time, the temperature was wrong. Another, the scales. The next, a fellow student nagged her to help him with his own experiment, shaking her out from her concentration and forgetting where she was in the delicate process.

After another unsuccessful attempt, she put down her glasses and dropped it on the table with a sigh of resignation. With an intent glance she stared the curlicue tubes and vials and the bluish light of the Bunsen burner and tried to figure out what went wrong this time.

 _Three ounces of magnesium and two ounces of sulfite heated for two minutes..._ She rehearsed the process in herself what burned into her mind, knew every word without even took a peek into her book. She has never failed in anything and this wasn’t the time she wanted to start it.

She heard the bells calling her to a lecture, so she packed her books away in rush and took her steps to the exit when realized the absence of her glasses. It was the fifth time that week she had almost lost her glasses. With a grimace, she rushed back to the table and put it on.

She strode fast under the antique archways led to the auditorium, her thoughts rushing at the speed of light, blocking her environment out, leaving no space for anything in her beside science.

Until she saw him there, sitting on the stone railing, his legs casually swung. His arms were crossed as he leaned on the stone column, smiling at her. He tried to be seemed confident, but after their little incident in the gazebo the other day, she knew it was just a mask of him. But she had to admit it, made her wonder what he was doing in the campus.

“Officer Theirin,” she greeted him, taking a few steps toward him. “To what do I owe the pleasure to see you here? Seeking knowledge?” Her voice was suave but still, some sarcasm spiced it.

“Actually I did my homework, Miss Solona Amell,” he answered as jumped up from the railing. “You saw the name on my badge.” He lit a cigarette and sucked a deep one before continued. “Interesting girl you are, you know," he said as exhaled the smoke. “The first woman ever who gained full scholarship on the Faculty of Applied Sciences. Despite your young age, your bibliography is an impressive one, publishing in every area from applied physics to biochemistry. In the scientific community you have quite a reputation with your breakthroughs in cutting-edge technologies. If you were a man, I’m sure the Academy would greet you with open arms.”

Solona chuckled. “But sadly I’m a woman,” she stated bitterly. She bit her lips to hush away her slight disillusionment of the scientific community and smirked on the officer. “Brilliant investigation, Officer. You even know my timetable. I’m truly impressed.” The condescending and sarcastic cadence, her wit and the feeling of intellectual supremacy were always her weapon and shield. Maybe she wasn’t pretty or rich but she had her brain and talent.

“Actually, I didn't,” he cleared his throat and the smile froze off his face in awkwardness. “I spent my whole morning here waiting for you.” Now he had her attention. She was never the sweetheart of men. She was always a grey bookworm sitting in the corner buried in her readings. Men usually approached her when they needed her professional help in study or to introduce them to a targeted lady.

“Oh?” That was the only reply she was capable of. For the first time she had no witty riposte to save her life.

“I was wondering if maybe…” he muttered. “…I could invite you for a tea and biscuit?”

“Me?” She heaved in her astonishment. She saw his cheeks slowly turning into light pink by the heat as he nodded.

“You are different than any woman I have ever met and I’d like to get you know better.” Her breath caught in her throat in her in astonishment and her mouth slackened. “Of course," he continued, "that's if you don’t consider it as an indiscretion.”

Solona shook her head to make herself sure that she isn’t dreaming.

Alistair waited patiently. Swallowing her temporary uncertainty, she straightened herself up, putting on her mask of cool rationality, doing her best to hide her awkwardness.

“Of course not.” she answered confidently. “Thursday 8 pm in the Red Lion?” she asked.

“Perfect!” he replied. “See you soon, Miss Amell.” And with a light bow he walked away.

She looked after him, swept her eyes to the receding figure and those wide and muscled shoulders... and tried to overcome the absurdity of what had just happened. Did she just... get a date?

The second bell shook her and she cursed herself for almost forgetting her lecture. She hurried to the auditorium. She had never missed even a single lecture. She was a model student who was always the first and the last on the campus. She had to be to prove her place in the scientific world.

“Now that’s a delicious one.” Solona heard as passed the door frame. She took a few steps back and looked behind the thick wooden door. Sera stood there, leaning against the wall, propping herself up with one leg. Her blonde uncombed hair was in her eyes; her shabby and baggy clothes were at least two sizes bigger than her slender and small body.

“Ya, know after you hinted he was the cop investigating the robberies, I alerted Ari to make steps, yeah?” She looked up under the rim of her boyish cap and grinned to Solona. “She will be happy that you took care of business. And he investigated the smugglings too, by the way. Ya got a big catch, Brainiac.”

“I did not intend to…” Solona tried to defend herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, right?” Sera cut in. “You gurls always say the same and still you end up arse up with your knickers round your knees.” She snickered so loud that the whole archway echoed it back.

“Get to the point, Sera! I’m in hurry!" Solona snapped, losing her patience. She saw the professor entering. Now she was officially in late from her lecture.

“Any progress with the drug?” Sera asked.

“No.” Solona answered pursing her lips. “And I need more.”

“Ya, know it’s not easy to get these things for you,” Sera pouted.

“Delicate research needs materials, Sera,” Solona answered with her condescending tone. How would a street rat like Sera would know what a scientific research would require? Even if Sera was who she was...

“Whatever,” the blonde girl snorted. “Come to the place tonight. We have a big hit.” And she ran down the archway, vanishing.


	3. Red Lyrium's Call

Cullen’s office was always messy, but Cullen liked to think of it as an organized mess. He could find anything in the mess, provided you didn’t ask him to. It was on the second floor of Fort Drakon, the city guard headquarters in Denerim. It was far enough from the palace that he was spared from the constant watch of his ultimate superior, the one whom he reported to on behalf of Commander Eamon, who was already getting on in years. The farther away from Anora Mac Tir he was, the better. He stood at his desk, reading a report. His chair was covered with piles of paper, as was his floor, shelves and desk. Everything came here to his office. It was what distinguished the City Guard from other thugs in the city - paperwork. Everything was official, every arrest, every watchhouse incident report, a copy wound up here. Cullen hated it, and… oddly liked it at the same time. Papers both soothed and annoyed.

 

He had his gloves taken off and tucked in to the space between two buttons of his uniform lapel. He no longer wore his braids, but a bronze  badge instead, pinned to the lapel of his black uniform with its red sash of office across his chest. He set the report aside on one of the piles of paper. Was this the report pile? Probably. He put it down and picked up the next, reading them in the late afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the window behind his desk. He heard whistling coming down the corridor through his open office door. That off-tune whistling was familiar.

 

He did not look up as his door was opened. “We knock first in this office,” he said sternly. The door was shut.

 

“I brought muffins,” said a voice that was familiar to him. Cullen looked up into the grinning face of Alistair.

 

“That’s nice,” Cullen said evenly. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

“I need your help,” Alistair said bluntly, setting the box down on the desk. He looked around the office. “Your place is a fire hazard.”

 

“If everything combusts, it might just be a blessing,” Cullen said as he put down the reports he held. Alistair was in a simple coat and vest, his clothes looking like it hadn’t seen starch in a while. It was the total opposite to Cullen and his carefully pressed street uniform and polished boots. Outside, the sky dimmed to the sound of whirring propellers, the sunlight in his office cut off. The top of Fort Drakon served as a blimp base. It was the tallest point in all of Denerim, after all. The constant droning of blimps coming and going was something Cullen had grown accustomed to. This was the six o’clock passenger blimp arriving, filling the fort with noise. “What help does the Yard need?” he asked over the noise.

 

“Yes, well… now you know about the latest substance being circulated, don’t you?” Alistair asked, sitting down on the edge of Cullen’s desk since the chairs were covered with piles of paper. He was closer to Cullen now, and needed to shout less over the noise.

 

“Elfroot? Felandris? Lyrium?” Cullen asked.

 

“Lyrium,” Alistair said, his hazel eyes hard. “But not the blue. The Yard has uncovered something a little more potent.”

 

Cullen stiffened. “Alistair, that’s the worst one in the city,” he said. “We’ve been coming down hard on it for years now.”

 

“You’d know about that,” Alistair said. “I know your good works and how you got your promotion. But this one is… Let’s just say it’s… bad.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black box. He set it on the table and Cullen heard the metallic sound as the box hit the wood. Alistair glanced at him, concern in his eyes. “Are you alright if I show it to you?” he asked. “I don’t want to… cause distress.

 

“I’m fine,” Cullen said tightly, his jaw clenching. “Open it.”

 

“You know yourself best,” Alistair said and opened the box.

 

Cullen stared at the thing within, the shard glowing red like a banked forge. There was a pull, all lyrium had a pull, it could reach into you to claim you, once it was inside you. The allure of the blue was strong enough. This one was… hypnotic. He rubbed his forehead and Alistair shut the box. The pull was gone. Cullen sighed heavily, his head beginning to ache, the noise of the blimp making it worse. Alistair tucked the box away into his jacket.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Cullen replied tersely, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask why you have that in your pocket?”

 

“It’s safe as long as it’s in lead,” Alistair assured him. “It’s stronger, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” Cullen’s voice was hoarse.

 

“And it’s coming into the city.”

 

Cullen ran his hand over his face and looked at Alistair thoughtfully. “You want my men to assist in the investigation, don’t you?” he asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

“That begs the question of why _you_ are the one telling me this,” Cullen went on asked. “This should be coming from Meredith. Or even the Minister.”

 

“Yeah, sadly, I’m too dumb to investigate this, apparently,” Alistair said with a hint of bitterness. “This whole affair reeks of politics. They took the case from me and gave it to Carrol. Carrol! The man’s a tit!”

 

“True,” Cullen agreed, he crossed his arms.

 

“Now Carrol’s been going around saying he’s not finding any evidence of this drug’s distribution, which is horse shit.” Alistair’s voice was vehement as he crossed his arms. “Meredith’s not diverting any resources to this case. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop - meaning she’s waiting until some crazed person on the red runs into the street and kills someone. The effects of the drug are… odd. Varied. That’s what makes its users hard to identify. On the other hand, if Captain Cullen Rutherford - impeccable reputation for honor and duty and all that - if _you_ find the lyrium in the city, no one would doubt--”

 

“You’re using me.”

 

Alistair squirmed under Cullen’s glare. “Not really, more like… asking you for a favour.”

 

“And I suppose you know where I should look?”

 

“I… _could_ suggest places your men could patrol,” Alistair said slowly.

 

“And what’s in this for you?” Cullen asked with all the subtlety of a brick to the face.

 

Alistair’s eyes glowed with innocence. “Me? What? Nothing! I am merely doing my job - not that this is my job. Technically. I’m on petty crimes now.”

 

Cullen raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’m serious,” Alistair said. “I don’t get anything out of this. I just want Meredith to move on this.”

 

“Are you hoping to get the case back officially?” Cullen asked. “Clearly, you are still working on this on your own. At the risk of your job.”

 

“They’re not going to fire me.” Alistair shrugged.

 

“Because of your father and uncle? Even then, you can only push so far, Alistair.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Alistair shrugged. “You know what the blue was like, Cullen. You know how bad it can be, how... “ Alistair shook his head. He did not want to open old wounds. “If the red is worse, what would you do to stop it?”

 

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension there. “Fine,” he said. “Let me know where my men should take a walk. I’ll see what we can find.”

 

“Try the Borroughs,” Alistair said. “Lane twenty three.”

 

“The Borroughs? That’s a decent part of town. Alright, and we are looking for?”

 

“Anything that may happen.” Alistair stood up. “Right, you didn’t hear this from me. Now I have to go, I’ve got a date.” Outside, the whirring of the propellers began to recede. Cullen began to wonder if Alistair had come to his office at this time of day on purpose. The man was smarter than he pretended to be.

 

“You? You have a date?” he asked.

 

“What’s that supposed to me?” Alistair asked, sounding hurt.

 

Cullen smiled. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s about time. Enjoy.”

 

“You need to find a lady too.”

 

Cullen was already leaning over his table, retrieving his documents once more. “I don’t need a lady,” he said, and his mind drew to Evelyn once more. She was a lady for sure, but an unusual one.

 

“A gentleman then?” Alistair asked.

 

Cullen sighed. “I’m a little busy to be wooing ladies. I court ladies. Just ladies, but to each his own.”

 

Alistair laughed. “Wooin? You sound like a grandmother.”

 

Cullen’s eyebrow twitched. “Go away, Theirin. And perhaps press your clothes for your date? Just a suggestion?”

 

Alistair only laughed harder as he stepped out of Cullen’s office, the sunlight streaming in once more as the blimp moved off. Perfect timing, Theirin, Cullen thought as he turned his eyes back to the report, even as his mind drifted to sword clubs.


	4. The Scientist

Her laboratory was calm and silent. Only the bubbling sound of the boiling substance broke this transcendental state. Her gloved hand reached out for the vial and with a tweezers dropped red crystals from the lead container in it and watched the mesmerizing process as it slowly paints the transparent liquid into sanguine. It was always indescribably alluring and she always felt some almost unconquerable desire to taste it. She unwittingly neared it to her lips like even the view pushed her into some kind of trance.

Her sanctuary was near the Dregs and the docks, hidden from the curious and unwanted eyes. She chose the place by herself carefully guarding to keep the purpose of the warehouse hidden. Her generous mentor provided her the best equipment what money could buy until she produced new and new cutting-edge inventions and made expensive toys for his precious daughter. But at last she had the financial support to build the Gryphon.

Her eyes wandered on the blueprints on the wall for a quick moment before the substance demanded her attention back. She always felt herself uneasy working with it.

It was an enigma. After all these years...

It was lyrium undoubtedly. The same consistency, the same boiling point, the same reactions, but still she could swear that she heard some ethereal music every time she worked with it. If she had ever been religious she would have said it was the sound of the Maker, but she was a scientist who only believed in experiments, observation and numbers. But still there was something transcendental in it, something unholy, even if it sounded as preposterously as it was.

 

She still had a few hours. With circling motions stirred the liquid and her mind raced as always. But this time it was different, lingering around a particular memory under an antique archway, two hazel eyes behind the thick curtain of cigarette smoke; lips turning to a mischievous smile; husky low tone of voice calling out her name; dingy clothes, worn out, just like the man who wore them; trails of scars on the cheek, telling violent stories and the scent of sea biscuit and saffron, disturbingly calming.

She has never played this game well but now she was forced to play it. The life was full with cruel tricks... _very_ cruel tricks. If there was really a Maker, he had a very odd sense of humor.

 

She heard the door opening and it drew her glance on the approaching lady. Her figure was slender, wrapped in fine and luxurious clothes. Only the fennec fur shawl around her neck was more expensive than her monthly rental. Her waist was unnaturally slim by the corset. Her hair short and boyish, still with that fancy hat and delicately painted face, her appearance was utterly elegant.

“You’re late, Evie,” Solona stated as took the vial down on her workbench. _As always._ She added in herself.

“I can’t be late, Sol, I’m your employer,” She replied walking to her with elegant and prim strides.

She took off her glasses and clipped the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Your father is my employer, you are just spending his money.”

Evelyn shrugged as reached the other side of the table. “Does it matter from where the money comes from? It's just a formality.” Solona pursed her lips but had to admit Evelyn was right. It did not matter.

“Did you make it?” Evelyn asked with childlike enthusiasm. Solona nodded and went to a cabinet. From the glass surface of the cabinet door she saw Evelyn curiously poking around her instruments.

"Don't touch anything!" She ordered as returned with a package. She put it down the table and wrapped it out from the velvet folding. She opened the wooden box and took out a cane, made by the finest walnut tree. With twisting the knob she pulled out the light-feeling blade from it handing to Evelyn who as a try swished a couple with into the thick air of the laboratory.

"It is a very light but strong alloy of steel and titanium. It cuts through flesh like the hot knife through butter," Solona stated as took the wooden box away.

"Did you test it?" she asked.

"Of course. On a swine," she said in monotone voice as looked up from her desk and met Evelyn's astonished glance. "It was obvious," she explained, like it was the most trivial thing on earth. "The physiology of swine is very similiar to human."

Evelyn hummed as an answer. "Where is Ari?" she asked.

"Supposedly on her daily confession at Father Solas," Solona replied, spitting his name out with such disdain, feeling the bile rise in her throat. If even the half of the rumors were true about him... ahnd she knew him enough to beleive it...

The door slammed. Solona looked up on the other female figure, fragile like a little songbird, her skin whiter even than hers, emphasized by her dark and delicate silk dress, provocative, leaving too much skin exposed. Her eyes almost white and with silver hair gave her some ethereal impression. Like a ghost or a mirage, whose icy breezes leave goosebumps behind. 

Solona's eyes stuck on the poorly concealed bruises on her arms. It wasn't uncommon in her profession, still the distress in her eyes made her uneasy.

"About time, Ari," she sulked as went to her cabinet once again for another this time smaller box. She opened it and took out a delicately carved cigarette holder and a matching case. As she looked up saw her staring the vial of dissolved lyrium on her desk with dread what painted her already white skin into the color of a cadaver. "Everything is all right?" She asked meaningfully.

"Yes..." Ariris' voice was jaded. "Just this thing makes my skin crawl." She hummed as handled the cigarette holder to her.

"This is a blow gun, the darts are in the cigarette case." She explained. "I have to warn you that use strictly one dart at a time. This is a very potent nerve poison of deathroot and felandaris that drops the target into coma temporarily."

"Did you test this too?" Evelyn asked in amused voice like a child in Christmas time.

"No I didn't, but Anders, who developed the formula, made his own..." she swallowed a big one and took her hand before her mouth to prevent the bile erupt. Even the thought made her sick. "...experiments. Believe me, it's effective."

"Your gadgets are always effective." Evelyn beamed swishing a few with her new toy. Solona leaned over her workbench propping herself with her arms and driving her eyes on the vial with the red liquid. Something gathered inside her for a time now, something what wanted to break free from her.

"Do you think this is some kind of game, Evie? That we are some kind of consecrated justicars?" she hissed.

"What do you mean, Sol?" Ariris asked.

"Look around and tell me what you are seeing." she ordered still facing the glass of crimson substance.

"Your lab," the answer arrived. She chuckled unamused.

"You are seeing my home, my life," she said looking up on them. "I don't have a rich father who bails me out from everything," she shot sharply at Evelyn. "Or a pretty and exotic face what opens every door." She turned her sight to Ariris. "This is everything I have, " she spread her arms. "And I'm jeopardizing it with arming up a group of terrorists."

"We are not-"

"Legally the _'Friends of Red Jenny'_ is a terrorist group!" she yelled at Evelyn. "If anybody finds out I'm tied to it in any way my lightest problem will be losing my scholarship." She turned away from them wiping out those gathering tears from her eyes. "I know we are doing the right thing even if our methods are... unorthodox. But this begins to be too grand to deal with." She heard some uncertain steps toward her.

"Sol-" Evelyn's voice was low, hardly louder than a whisper.

"WHAT?" she shouted. "It is easy for you. I have to prove my existence every day for everybody in everything. You have to prove nothing for nobody."

Evelyn's blue eyes hardened, glittering as she caught Solona's gaze. "Yes, you are right." Evelyn's voice cracked like a whip. "Nobody expects anything from me. Don't you know that noblewomen are the most frivolous things in the world? Just be pretty, behave, be there. Like a vase. No one expects anything from a vase." Her hand flipped as she spoke, the other cocked on her hip.

Solona's hand tightened around the handle of the pistol before her. She glared to Evelyn challengingly. "Poor little princess in her ivory tower who has everything and still feels she has nothing. You want to prove something?" The weapon clattered on the workbench right before her, skidding to a halt before Evelyn. "Get me some red lyrium," she hissed.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes, grabbed the pistol and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Solona took her breaths heavily tried to calm down and as her anger began to leave her she began to regret her words.

"Sol..." Ariris murmured.

"Go, Ari," she ordered and she turned on her heels back to her cabinet. She heard the steps receding from her and then a pause.

"By the way, you caught the Detective's interest," Ariris stated in monotone voice.

Solona snapped her head and turned to her once again.

"Really?" it sounded way more astonished than she intended and she felt the heat creeping on her cheeks. She cleared her throat and tried to be seem calm. "I'll make sure he won't cause any trouble for you."

Ariris smiled over her bare shoulder. "He is already causing trouble." 


	5. The Bobby at Lane 23

Evelyn’s chest was bound, her dull gray leather jacket hiding the curves of her waist. She carried her new toy across her back as she walked through the quaint house in the suburbs of Denerim. The Borroughs, they were called. And these were the sort of men who were using the stuff. Lane 23. Ariris’s client. A father of three, and one of Ari’s best clients. Bastard. She walked silently on her soft-soled boots, Ariris ahead of her. Ariris was dressed in soft, cheap cloth that hid her shape, her belt heavy with her loaded pistols and a rifle slung across her back, her silver hair wrapped in cloth, goggles over her eyes and the mask extending down over Ariris’s mouth. Evelyn wore a similar mask under her leather hood. They used smoke bombs, the masks were necessary.

 

Ariris could sneak. She was absolutely silent in every graceful movement. Evelyn had to concentrate. As they arrived outside a bedroom door, Ariris gestured for her to wait. Evelyn did so. Ariris knelt before the door, delicate fingers working tools into the lock. It turned in silence and Ariris stepped in. Evelyn waited, breathing slowly, calmly. This was a typical break in for samples for Solona. Ariris emerged a moment later, a metal box under her arm. She nodded and shut the door behind her with barely a sound, then they headed back the way they came, walking through the dark house. They came to a second floor window and pulled it open, the street stretching out below them. Ariris nimbly climbed out of the window first, reaching up to the ledge above and pulling herself up. Evelyn moved to follow, holding the ledge.

 

Then a whistle pierced the night. Evelyn turned, seeing a guard in his black uniform and red sash emerging from an alley, his pistol drawn. “Halt!” he cried.

 

Evelyn pulled herself up after Ariris. The guard was already climbing the house’s fence, vaulting over it. “Run!” she snapped to Ariris as she pulled herself onto the roof.

 

“Just kick him off!” Ariris hissed.

 

“No!” Evelyn said. “I’ll give him a run he won’t forget. Get out of here!”

 

Ariris nodded as Evelyn waited on the roof. “Be careful,” Ariris said and ran off. Evelyn heard the guard pulling his way up the side of the house. She drew the stick across her back, its head wrapped in black velvet to hide it. Tough luck for the bobby who was overly keen. She saw a hand grasp the top of the roof and swung hard in time to hit the head that reared up. Instead, another hand caught her wrist as the guard reared up, twisting her arm behind her back. Evelyn was not expecting that. she winced as she heard a knee on the roof. “Maker, you must think I was born yesterday,” growled a voice in her ear.

 

She looked over her shoulder into the face of the one damn person she didn’t want to see. Cullen! What was a captain doing on the beat? She heard the clink of handcuffs and twisted in his arms, breaking from the arm lock as she rolled away from his grasp. She sprang to her feet and took off across the roofs, away from Ariris.

 

Sure enough, Cullen pulled himself onto the roof and ran after her. Guards were trained in a certain way that made them predictable, she noticed. Run and they will chase you, especially if you hit them first. She ran across the rooftop, climbing the shingles, her boots pounding on the tiles. She looked over her shoulder as he followed, his night cloak waving in the wind after her. To her faint horror, she realized he was keeping pace. Ariris was still visible on the roof. She was, in fact, running over to them. Evelyn swore. If she slipped away now, Cullen would run to Ariris.

 

She spurred on, but knew this was futile. She had to engage. Her boots knocked off a roof tile as she skidded to a halt, her cane coming around. He blocked the blow, but her elbow caught him in the gut. She rounded in the strike, bringing her cane around to his head. He caught her elbow in its path and she instinctively twisted to escape his grip.

 

He must have anticipated because he moved with her, until he had wound her arm around her neck. In that split second, she saw Ariris kneeling to take aim, her soft cloth fluttering as she moved the rifle into her sights. She saw Cullen’s arm come over her shoulder with pistol in hand, his cape flaring around him and hanging in the air as time slowed. His gun fired first. Ariris fell. Evelyn choked back the panic. She twisted in his grip, ignoring the pain in her muscles as she caught the back of his leg with hers and threw him to the ground, working on nothing more than leverage. Cullen landed heavily on his back. She stepped on his wrist, still stubbornly holding the pistol. She pinned him down with a knee to his neck.

 

Cullen grunted, fighting for breath. She saw Ariris moving and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at Cullen. “Back off, bobby!” she snapped, her mask muffling her voice. “You’re not the one we want.”

 

“What _do_ you want?” he snarled, his hand on her knee, trying to pry her off.

 

“The red off the streets,” she said.

 

He stilled, his honeyed eyes thoughtful yet hard as he looked at her. Maker, this would be easier if he weren’t so damn attractive _and_ necessary. She felt him move too late, his ankles catching her neck and throwing her back. She landed hard, her foot catching his neck as the other pinned his gun arm down. Evelyn was screaming curses inside. “This is not the way to do it, kid,” Cullen growled. Oh good, he was none too smart. Helpful. Evelyn felt his ankles squeeze her neck in a vice grip. If she moved, he would shoot them, or she could kick him in the throat. She couldn’t bring herself to seriously hurt him. They needed him. She reached into her waist pack.

 

Cullen must have seen her move. “Oh no you--” he reached out for her with his free hand, still wincing under her foot on his neck.

 

She moved her foot off his throat and kicked the gun away from his hand, sending it skittering across the roof. She twisted out of his grip as she rose up, her diminutive size being useful for something. She took out the bomb from her waist pack as she sprang to her feet. He was already up - what did it take to keep him down? The bomb exploded at his feet, filling the air with choking smoke. Then bullets ricocheted off the slate. Through the smoke, Evelyn saw the shadow of Cullen take cover behind a chimney as Ariris fired into the smoke. Evelyn was already emerging from the cloud and heading to the edge of the roof. She dropped off as the hail of bullets pinned him down.

 

Evelyn landed on the street below and took off. Above, the shooting stopped. Evelyn rounded the back way and saw Ariris landing on the street. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

 

“Bastard got my side,” she replied, shouldering her rifle. She held her side as they fled.

 

“Then we need to hurry to the Dregs - sewers, Ari.” They came to a manhole. Evelyn stuck her cane’s hooked head into the hole on the cover and grit her teeth, her muscles bunching as she lifted the heavy lid and slid it aside. Fetid air flowed out from within. Ariris looked at her in distaste and climbed down. Then Evelyn followed, hooking her legs on the ladder rung within and dragging the lid back into place. darkness falling around them as above, the whistles of Cullen’s backup filled the night.

 

++++

 

They emerged at last through a trap door. Dull green light spilled out from beneath the wood as Evelyn and Ariris climbed out of the sewers. Evelyn held up the small open pouch from which green light spilled. They were in a basement, seemingly long unused. Rotting boxes mouldered in the corners under slime. This was the place. “Where are we?” Ariris asked.

 

“Below the streets. This basement floods in the spring,” Evelyn said, helping her up into the room. She tied the pouch closed and the light faced, leaving only the shadows to navigate by. She saw Ariris wincing and draped the pale girl’s arm around her shoulders, helping her walk. “We’re near Solas’s church.”

 

Ariris stiffened in Evelyn’s hold. “Ari, you’re bleeding and Anders is too far away,” Evelyn said. Ariris sighed and followed Evelyn as they emerged from the basement and out a disused house. The smell of the harbour was stronger here as they made their way through the fetid poor quarters, heading to the only stone building in the area, if you wanted to call river rock stone. The streets were empty, as expected. Their boots splashed through puddles in the muddy tracks that passed for streets. Evelyn sighed. “I was not expecting him to shoot,” she said apologetically to Ariris.

 

“I was not expecting you to get pinned,” Ariris said drily. “You could have killed him twice. You were holding the cane. You had your own gun.”

 

Evelyn frowned. “We need him.” She caught Ariris’ look.

 

“Stop it, we do need him. I couldn’t kick him off the roof, could I? What captain goes on a beat anyway? Stupid man!”

 

Ariris’s gaze spoke volumes. “You’re not supposed to have feelings for him,” she pointed out.

 

Evelyn gave up. “I don’t,” she pouted, looking away. “I didn’t even want to talk to him to begin with - stupid Sera!” But Cullen was just so… nice in that dumb puppy dog sort of way. Damn the man!

 

“I don’t think it was the shooting that you found unexpected,” Ariris said then.

 

“You’re right,” Evelyn agreed. “I was not expecting him to hit you at that distance. That… was unexpected.”

 

Ariris stopped. “We’ll talk about that later,” she said.

 

“Wait here,” Evelyn sighed. “I’ll handle them.” She lowered Ariris’s arm and drew her cane from across her back. The five thugs were already around them, emerging from the shadows and surrounding them, towering over them, their guns and weapons glinting in the moonlight. “We’re in a hurry,” Evelyn barked.

 

“Now, now, little boy,” said one of the thugs. “Just you and your friend do what we say and--”

 

Evelyn did not wait. Her cane sword struck the speaker across the mouth, teeth flying in the air, sparkling like jewels. She ducked a strike, leaning back as the blade whizzed over her head. Then twisted, slamming her cane head into a knee, hearing the satisfying sound of bone breaking. Her blade streaked from the cane like a rearing silver serpent, catching a sword strike. She countered with a the end of her cane rammed right into the attacker’s crotch. Then she dodged on instinct, her mind’s eye seeing the black metal of the gun as it rose and fired. The bullet landed in the thief bending over and clutching his crotch. She kicked the open wound as he bent in agony and charged the shooter. Her sword flashed as he frantically tried to fire again. He screamed, dropping the gun as he clutched his hand. On the ground, a finger and a trigger landed in the dirt. She turned to the last thug standing as around her writhed the defeated. He shivered, his eyes wild, then he fled. As he ran, Evelyn swiped the blood off her sword and sheathed it. A gunshot rang out and the running thug fell, clutching his leg in agony.

  
The man’s screaming over his finger was annoying her. She knocked him out with the head of her cane to the back of his cranium. He fell unconscious. Evelyn gently took Ari’s arm once more. “Almost there,” she said soothingly as Ariris holstered her pistol. Slowly, they made their way to the Chantry, unmolested in the worst neighbourhood of Denerim.


	6. Tea and Roses

Solona sat in the Red Lion and adjusted her dress for the thousandth time, checked her face in the pocket mirror, like she could do anything with it.

She watched the reflection of her freckled cheeks and pursed her lips. She wasn't Evelyn or Ariris who knew delicate ruses to make themselves more beautiful than they already were. She had pale, almost grey skin with those hated freckles what covered her face, that horrid thing on her nose what screamed the whole world her defects and that haystack on her head, what she could never comb properly. She never gave too much to these thing but now as she looked her reflection in the mirror suddenly felt herself comfortless and began to think about that why he asked her out.

The more she observed him from the distance the more she felt some kind of fascination toward him. It was a job to know his every movement, but that rainy day, when he jumped in that gazebo, the first time their glance directly met, for a moment she forgot why she was really there. The moment he walked to her for to pick up that tattered notebook, something moved in her. It felt so absurd, the whole situation. She, Solona Amell, on who nobody never laid his eyes more than a few seconds, who was never asked out by anybody now sat in a teahouse, waiting for a man, handsome and in his own way witty felt too good to be true.

 _Convenient coincidences._  They needed him away from the break-ins and Solona needed information about the smugglings, so it became handy he asked a date. And in some way it felt too convenient. 

She took a glance on the clock hanging on the wall. Eight hours passed with five minutes.

He was late. Solona began to think it was some kind of set up. That he knew who she is or he just played a cruel joke with her, fooling around the poor spinster girl to feel herself pretty and desirable at least once.

She was about to stand up and crawl back into the safety of her lab when the bell at the door rang and he entered. Looking right into her eyes, his lips turned to a soft smile making that dimple at the side of her mouth more significant. He made his way to her table, not taking his hazel eyes from her even for a moment. She felt herself embarrassed like she was naked in front of him, like he knew all her secrets.

"Miss Amell," he greeted her as reached the table and with a light move sat down. Solona looked through him. His clothes were new-looking, or at least clean and he shaved. For some reason she was disappointed by it. She liked that few-days stubble that always covered his face. 

"Officer Theirin," she said feebly. Feeling the heat flushes her cheeks. She wondered does Evelyn or Ariris blush too. She doubted.

"Please, call me Alistair. I hate formalities." The set of tea she ordered earlier arrived.

"I took the liberty to order," she said uncertainly as took the top of the teapot, the erupting steam fogged her glasses. She hissed as he took it off to clean them on the hem of his coat. She stole a glance at him, seeing the amusement on his face. She built machines that outdistanced any other existing technologies, but she acted like an idiot with this man. She took his cleaned glass back, and some tea leaf in the filter and poured the hot water in, fixating her glance on the teacup and the golden liquid what flew into it. She did not look up but felt the curious eyes on herself.

"How do you drink your tea, Office-... Alistair." She felt the blush on her cheeks as his name left her mouth.

"Some cream and two sugars," he answered. She reached out for the sugar cube with the tongs. Her hand trembled. Her hand never trembled, she always made even the most dangerous experiments with the steadiest motions and now she wasn't sure the sugar cube reaches the teacup without falling down.

"Are you okay?" he asked with still an amused tone. She couldn't imagine how idiotic she looked like with her fumbling. He propped her chin, driving her glance on him. He smiled, softly, encouragingly. "You look different than last time, distressed maybe."

Of course she looked different. The last time they met she hasn't even thought about sitting with him at the same table chatting,  _dating_. "I'm just tired," she lied. "I made experiments last night, all night."

"In this case, let  _me_ make your tea," he replied as took the tongs away from her, their skin accidentally brushing each other's. Their eyes locked, and Solona could swear that his cheeks also turned pink. "How do you drink your tea, Miss Amell?" he asked clearing his throat.

"Solona..." it poured out from her mouth as she smoothed a stray curl behind her ear. "Call me Solona." He chuckled as poured the hot tea in her cup. "I drink it black." Her voice wasn't louder than a whisper.

After he finished he leaned back on his chair, searched something in the inner pocket of his coat. "You know, I get the feeling like when I interrogate a suspect. They usually look at me with the same frightened doe-eyes like you now." He took a cigarette case from his coat, opening it, offering one to Solona.

She accepted. She saw Ariris so many times before drawing the attention of men to herself as she smoked a cigarette elegantly, almost erotically. She remembered her motions, the delicate ways she seduced a man. Alistair lit her cigarette, and she took it to her mouth, sucked a deep one the way would Ariris do, felt the thick smoke breaking through it way down to her lungs, burning her trachea and she burst out coughing hard. 

"You know Solona, you are one of a kind," he chuckled as took the cigarette from her fingers and doused it in the ashtray.

"What do you mean?" she asked as tried to catch her breath.

"The first time we met, the way you defeated me in that gazebo in my own game, the certainty and confidence in your eyes, it has not releases me. It crawled into my thoughts, banging from inside," he said, running his eyes down on her red hair, taking a suck from his own cigarette. "Then I tried to find you, track you down, and the more I got to know about you, the more you fascinated me. A young girl who proved her place in the world of men. Confident, assertive, challenging. The same girl who sits before me covered in blush in such a lovely way." He took a drag of his cigarette again. "I have never met a woman like you."

The breath stuck in her throat as she tried to find her words, the weapon and shield what was always there for her, those witty and sarcastic one-liners that she always spoke at the right time.

"Thank you..." she heaved finally. Ugh. 

"Ello, Guv! Fancy a rose for the pretty lady?" A flower girl appeared. Solona recognized the little girl, one of the little birds of Sera, one of those messengers of Red Jennies who webbed the whole city and suddenly a sense of foreboding flooded her.

"Of course. Beautiful ladies demand matching flowers. Please, Solona, choose one." The girl handed the basked to her and the same time something landed in her hand, a scrap of paper. She took a shot glance on it. She recognized the elegant handwriting. It was Evelyn's.

_Ari got a shot. We are at the chantry. -Evie_

Her face paled, her whole body began to tremble. With shaking hands she took a red rose from the basket. She tried to keep her composure, taking the breaths deeply, but suddenly the whole place began to spin around her.

"Alert Anders," she mouthed silently to the little girl, who nodded took the basket and the money that Alistair gave to her and clumsily curtsied before went away.

She stared the blood-red rose in her hand, maybe the most beautiful she has ever seen. "Good choice, a rare beauty, just like you," his voice was sincere and gentle. Solona snapped her head to him, her eyes stuck on his, her heart and mind raced, tried to decide what to do. The panic was in her throat, and tried to find a way to escape somehow, but nothing elegant, nothing proper came into her mind.

Suddenly she jumped up from her chair, her legs trembling in the hastiness.

Alistair followed her. "What's wrong?" he asked his voice confused.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." she heaved and rushed to the streets. She called for a carriage. She heard him calling out her name, his steps coming after her. She jumped in as quick as she could and ordered the carter to take her to Chantry of Andraste's Mercy.

All Alistair could catch was the thrown puddles of rainwater as the coach turned the corner, the red rose laying forgotten on the wet cobble-stones.

 

++++++

 

She strode anxiously, fixing her eyes on the altar and the wooden door behind it that led to the vicarage. In that moment she entered the musky church the stink of rotten flesh, the scent of death hit her, making the bile almost erupt in her throat and she gagged. Maybe for everybody else strong smell of incense could conceal it but for her, nothing. The only good thing of her myopia that her other ways of perception were better than the average. But in cases like this it was more likely a curse.

The empty church echoed the knocks of her shoes as she took her steps between the pews faster and faster with each and it some way seemed that with every step that door became more distant. The tears burned her eyes and that lump in her throat was impossible to swallow.

It was _her_ fault. All of it. If she could have provided any results by now... if she had found something... If she had tried harder...

"She needs to rest," she heard that hateful male voice but ignored it juststrode forward. Footsteps echoed behind her taking her pace, even faster but she didn't care.

"She needs to rest," she heard again, this time the voice was more insistant, and the steps behind her coming closer. A firm hand grabbed her arm.

"Sol-" without second thought she reached out for the stiletto she always kept in the secret pocket of her dress, and pointed it, right to his throat over the high collar of his priest frock, seeing the pulsation of his blood increasing in his carotid artery. _So he does have a heart._

"RELEASE ME!!!" She screamed so loud that the whole place shook by the echo, she heard as the stained glass windows trembled by her voice. "Maybe I'm not as skilled with the blade as Evie or I do not aim as good as Ari but rest is assured from here I can clearly take a hit what stabs through your throat. I'm not an expert in anatomy but they say drowning by your own blood is one of the worst ways to die." She felt the fingers slowly releasing her arm and they closed into a tight fist next to his thighs. "And now, lead me to her." she hissed.

Solas silently nodded and led her through the narrow caracoles until they reached a small room. Solona couldn't decide that the view of those organs in formaldehyde or the retching stink was worse. As they entered his bedchamber, she saw Evelyn sitting at the edge of the austere bed, the linen red by Ariris' blood.

"Sol..." she exclaimed as recognized her, jumping up from the bed.

"Evie, I sent for Anders, go and wait for him. Lead him here," her voice was so calm that surprised even herself. Evelyn just stared her, her eyes glimmered in tears of shock. "Go!" she ordered. Evelyn nodded and hastily left the small room.

Solona sat down the spot where Evelyn did before her, ran her eyes through her body the fresh linen bandages, what was already soaked by the sanguine liquid and her eyes stuck on the fresh syringe mark at the inside of her elbow. "You gave her morphine?" she asked.

"I did not want to cause her more pain than she already had." His answer was cold, calculated, causing her to burst out in an dry laughter.

"Do you believe your own words?" she spat her words on him. Now he released a sarcastic chuckle.

"I could never decide which of you is worse. That fool and bored little rich girl or you who is too smart to see the obvious truths. I always wondered why did you teach her to read and write if her fancy keeper did not find it necessary? To justify your own superiority over a poor and ignorant girl? To feel yourself important or useful?" He always knew how to get under your skin, Solona had to admit. His tongue was a dagger filled with poison.

"Sol-" Ariris' feeble voice broke the uptight silence raising her hands up into Solona's direction but her eyes fixed on Solas.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here. He can't hurt you. I won't let him." Solona whispered and the next moment Ariris fell back into her delirious sleep.

"You know, I remember a day too well," she replied to him as gently swept some stray silver locks from Ariris' face, her voice trembled by the mixture of anger and pain in her. "The day she came to me, in dirty clothes, every bit soaked by the pouring rain. That was the first time I saw the real color of her bloodshed eyes. She said nothing just came in, hugged me and cried, sobbed for almost two days. And then when she had no more tears she slept for two days. And then she began to talk. She told me the terrible things you had told to her, but I knew the more terrible things you had done. And I could do or say nothing to ease her eating pain I just listened in silence. And then few days later when it just seemed she had been better, she vanished, without a trace. I searched the city for her and when I found her she was..." Her voice trailed out and she swallowed her urge to cry. "...Well, what she is now."

She rose her eyes on the priest, her glare sharper than her most lethal blade and she prayed if only she could kill him with it. "You killed her. More than once."

"I did what I found necessary." His answer was chilling, like it didn't matter.

"You fucking bastard," she hissed. "You love playing the Maker, don't you? Deciding over the fate of people? Have you seen the bruises on her arms? A client did this to her, the life did this to her what you forced on her."

"Sol..." Anders's worried voice reached her as he and Evelyn entered the small room. Solona jumped up from the bed taking a last, challenging glare on Solas.

"Take her to the carriage," she ordered. Anders without hesitation took Ariris's fragile body and carried her away. Solas didn't even protest, just watched the scene as they took her away from the room, like it didn't matter.

"Are you familiar in ancient mythology, Solona?" He asked from her. Solona looked back from the door frame right into his cold blue eyes what seemed storm grey in the dim light of the room. There was something predatory in them, something she she could never forget.

"Hardly." she answered.

"There is a legend of a rebel god, who freed the people from the tyranny of the others but the process took immortality from them. He did it for the sake of the humanity and still this deed tossed them into chaos." His tone was lecturing, patronizing, like he just told her a proverb from the Chant of Light in the Sunday School.

"What is the point of this lecture?" She asked angrily.

"Playing a god requires sense of responsibility and endurance to bear the weight of the dire consequences." Solona hummed as took some intimidating steps toward the priest.

"People come to you to confess their sins and ask salvation. Tell me Father Solas, to whom do _you_ confess? Who gives _you_ salvation from your misdeeds?" But she did not wait any answer, just turned on her heels and left the small room stinking like rotting flesh.


	7. The Lady in the Carriage

It dawned gray, as it usually did in Denerim. The area around the house had been cordoned off by Cullen’s guards and, of course, Alistair was on the scene. Cullen’s arm and chest were bandaged under his uniform from the bullets that grazed him. He had never known anyone to get off so many shots with what looked like an infantry rifle. He stood at the other side of the street, scowling as Alistair interviewed the homeowner. It did not look like it was going well. The owner, clad in pajamas, was shaking his head at Alistair, sweating and looking suspicious. Cullen wondered if it might be a mercy to arrest the man for his red and yellow pajamas at least.

 

Cullen rubbed his neck, still bruised and aching from that grapple with the kid on the roof. Whoever that kid was… Cullen was not expecting him. Or her. He heard the rattle of the cane the kid had used. He knew what it was, but had no idea why the perpetrator hadn’t drawn his blade. He saw Alistair jogging over, shutting another of his cheap notebooks made of bound scraps of paper. “Well, looks like it’s just you,” Alistair said as he approached Cullen.

 

“You’re joking,” Cullen said.

 

“I’m not, he’s not pressing charges,” Alistair sighed, putting his notebook away. “He denies that anything was stolen and told us to get off his property.”

 

“I’m sure we can book him for something,” Cullen said.

 

“Fashion crimes?”

 

“Obstruction of justice, for a start,” Cullen said as the man glared at them darkly, then vanished inside his house, locking the door behind him. “Then fashion crimes.”

 

“All we have now is your account,” Alistair sighed. “Besides assault on the City Guard, are you sure you saw--”

 

“Breaking and entering, trespassing, aggravated assault, illegal possession of firearms, concealed weapons,” Cullen rattled off. “After a coffee, I should be able to think of a few more. Yes, and assault on a City Guard.” He rubbed his neck to ease the aching.

 

“Well, at least I have a case,” Alistair shook his head. “I know I don’t have a theft, but I do have reason to work on this. I wasn’t expecting you to be the one walking the beat.”

 

“I was short on men,” Cullen admitted. “And besides, had it been anyone but myself… they would have either gotten clean away or killed one of my Guards.”

 

Alistair reached into his pocket and drew out a paper bag. With his hands gloved against the cold, he drew out a bullet, twisted from the impact on the tiles. “We have retrieved the bullets at least,” he said. “Recognize the make of it?”

 

Cullen took it and turned it over, the dirt from the bullet tinging his white gloves. “Yes, one of Wade’s. I caught a glimpse of an infantry rifle.”

 

“There were twelve bullet marks on the roof.”

 

“I know what I saw.”

 

“You’re saying someone shot off twelve shots from an infantry rifle in a minute?”

 

Cullen could hear the disbelief in Alistair’s voice. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying,” he replied, handing back the bullet. “I happened to catch two of those shots.”

 

“Well, regardless, we’ll be able to work on these since I know you’re going to want them caught. And the thing they said - the red off the streets?”

 

“Perhaps they were talking about the same red?” Cullen crossed his arms gingerly. He had to make sure he didn’t open the stitching on his wound. There was the rattle of a carriage then, hooves clopping over the cobblestone streets. The carriage stopped outside the house and Cullen heard a window slide back, apparently to gawk at the scene. Cullen sighed and walked forward to the carriage, knocking on the window. He heard movement from within the carriage and the window on his side was opened.

 

Blue eyes looked out at him from a doll-like face under a hat adorned with feathers. Cullen recognized them immediately. “Captain,” Evelyn Trevelyan greeted.

 

“My lady,” Cullen blinked, surprised to see her.

 

She gasped and leaned out the window, her gloved hands on the sill as she stared at his bruised neck. “What happened to you?”

 

Cullen felt Alistair’s eyes boring into him, suddenly aware that even his guards were looking over curiously. “A minor injury, my lady,” Cullen said. “It is of no moment-”

 

“But you’re bandaged!” she cried in even greater surprise, reaching out to his open collar and pulled her hand away the minute her fingertips touched his clothes. “I‘m sorry,” she said quickly, her cheeks tinging were nothing compared to the blush threatening to spread from his chest to his face. “I was just-- startled.”

 

“It’s fine, my lady,” Cullen cleared his throat.

 

“It’s a couple of bullet wounds,” Alistair said, walking up and bowing slightly to Evelyn. “Certainly nothing the captain cannot weather.”

 

Evelyn blinked at him.

 

“Alistair Theirin,” he bowed. “I’m with the Yard, investigating a crime. Captain Cullen chased down two thieves last night.”

 

Cullen glared at him.

 

“He did?” Evelyn asked, sounding amazed.

 

“Oh yes, chased them across the roof and everything. Fought one off, he was winning until the other opened fire.”

 

Evelyn frowned. “He shouldn’t have,” she said.

 

“It was my duty,” Cullen replied.

 

“But at what cost?” Evelyn asked, a hint of steel in her voice. “For whatever they took, surely being shot… Ah, but listen to me, I’m sounding just like a little girl.” She shook her head. “What must you think of me… Now I wonder if swordsmanship is even enough to protect me if someone like you is attacked by ruffians.”

 

“It’s not your job to chase thieves down, my lady,” Cullen comforted her, seeing her troubled frown. She leaned her elbows on the window sill, her shoulders arching and her… chest moving in those subtle ways that Cullen wished he hadn’t noticed.

 

“Perhaps,” she frowned. “I’m just… worried. Perhaps I shouldn’t continue swordsmanship. A sword I cannot use is just as likely to help the enemy.”

 

“That is true,” Cullen said.

 

She looked at him, those eyes catching his. She was beautiful in a porcelain doll sort of way. A lock of her hair caught on her lip as she spoke. “Are you sure you cannot come to the sword club tonight?” she asked. “You fought off thieves across a rooftop. Surely you could give me some pointers.”

 

“I didn’t actually use any swo-- argh!” Cullen felt Alistair’s finger dig into his wound from behind him. He bent over, holding his wound, swearing inside. Through his cape, Cullen was sure Evelyn had not seen that bastard jabbing him in the ribs.

 

Evelyn gasped. “Maker!” she exclaimed and opened the carriage door. She stepped out and took Cullen’s shoulders, straightening him up. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Cullen assured her. Her hands were on his arms. Her hands were on his arms. He stood stunned for a moment, but as she looked up at him thoughtfully, he cleared his throat.

 

Evelyn glanced at her hands and pulled them off him as if he were flame. “Sorry,” she breathed, her hands behind her back. Both of them stood blushing as awkwardness bloomed between them.

 

“It’s fine,” Cullen tried to say, but it came out in a stupid mumble. Maker’s breath!

 

She blinked and reached into her carriage, pulling out her woven purse. She rummaged in it for a moment and drew out two cards. “If you can come, there is a good apothecary near the club,” she said as he took the cards with both hands, as decorum dictated. One was indeed the card for the Dawson Sword Club. He flipped it back and looked at the other. Evelyn looked up at him. “That’s if you don’t want to come. You can… I know a good doctor. He gets results really quickly.”

 

“You honour me with your concern,” Cullen said, looking up from her calling card.

 

“You honour us with your dedication,” she replied. “I think the city will need you back on your feet as soon as possible.” She smiled up at him, though there was a tiny spark of hopefulness in her eyes. “Consider this my… civic duty?”

 

He smiled. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

 

She drew a breath and turned to step up into her carriage. Cullen offered his hand without thought. She glanced up at him and took his hand, holding her dress with the other as she climbed back into her carriage. “Good day, Captain Cullen,” she said as he shut the door behind her, his hands resting on the black wooden door. “No more rooftop chases, if you please. I’m not sure my nerves can handle it.”

 

“I’ll try to make a point of it,” he smiled back. “I will... see you soon, my lady.”

 

“Evelyn, please.”

 

Her hand was close to his on the window sil. “Evelyn,” he murmured.

 

She smiled warmly at him and tapped the carriage floor with her foot. “Good day, Mr Theirin,” she called. Alistair bowed in response. The liveried driver clicked his tongue and the horses trotted off. Cullen saw Evelyn peek out from her window at him once more, then draw her head back in as the carriage rattled away. 

 

“Argh!” Cullen cried and pulled away as Alistair grabbed his arm. “Stop doing that! Maker’s breath!”

 

“Second time was an accident,” Alistair said. “Did you just get a calling card from Trevelyan?”

 

“So what?” Cullen replied without thinking.

 

Alistair stared at him in disbelief, sighed and ran his hand over his face wearily. “Andraste preserve me… he’s hopeless.”

 

“What are you talking about, Theirin?” Cullen demanded, tucking the cards into his pocket. He saw the guards gawking at him. “Back to work!” Cullen barked. “You have a scene to secure - Maker help me!”

 

The guards saluted and hurried away.

 

Alistair was smirking at him. “I’ll let you find out,” he said smugly. “I take it you’re going to the sword club. At least there you can impress her with your… blade?”

 

Cullen glared at him and chose to completely ignore that innuendo. “Whether I go or not is none of your concern.”

 

Alistair smirked. “You’re going.”

 

“Drop it, Theirin.”

 

“Knew it.”

 

++++


	8. Anders

_"It's carbon dioxide." The red-haired girl answered as looked up from her book through the thick lenses of her glasses._

_"Solona, my Dove, I asked Evelyn." the middle-aged man scolded her but it was nothing else in gentleness._

_"But she never knows the answer." the little girl sulked. Evelyn who sat neatly at the delicately carved desk snapped a glare on her and extended her tongue what Solona responded._

_"I ask her again and again to make her remember the answer. This is called pedagogy." Solona looked on the man with doubt and sarcasm in her eyes. Evelyn Trevelyan probably had many talents, but in the case of chemistry she was hopeless. "Why don't you take a walk in the garden, my Dove. You already know this lesson."_

_She jumped up from the armchair and walked through the giant study filled with books, more than she has ever seen, mostly untouched. She always wondered why people needed books if they never read them._

_"And now, Evelyn, let's start again..." she heard her father's patient voice as closed the door behind her._

_The garden was huge with neatly trimmed bushes and giant trees with a gazebo near the pond. Solona liked that pond, It was filled with shiny gold fishes. She sat down at the bole of the willow tree, opened her book and continued reading. She noticed something rustling in the gazebo and when she looked up saw a little girl with silver hair. She looked spooky as she stared with her almost white eyes, like she was some kind of ghost who haunted there._

_"Hello." the white-haired girl addressed her. "Who are you?"_

_"Solona." she answered. "And you?"_

_"Ariris." the answer arrived. "What are you doing?"_

_"I'm reading." Solona answered as swept her always suspicious glance through the girl. "The 'Tales of Thedas'." and she showed the cover of the book. Ariris' curious eyes became big by the astonishment._

_"You can read???" she inquired._

_"Of course I can." she snapped. "Everybody can read." It seemed obvious. She could read. Anders could read. Even Evelyn could read. The white-haired girl casted her eyes down and her cheeks became red by shame._

_"I... can't..." She muttered. The girl looked like  those porcelain dolls on Evelyn's shelves in the playing room. Even her clothes were similar. She stood up went to the gazebo and sat next to Ariris and opened her book._

_"I can teach you if you want."_

 

++++++++

 

Solona's screwdriwer fixed the device on the container filled with explosive liquid. Her movements were deliberate, knowing where she exactly needs to calibrate it. She found it utterly and infuriatingly ironic that she could handle a device that could blow up the whole place with the most steady motions while she wasn't able to make a simple tea a day before.

It didn't matter anyway. There will be no second time, so who cares she made a complete idiot of herself? Not that she had ever a chance with a man like him. He must have found it utterly amusing how the fool spinster girl made her fumblings.

The only thing she regretted she had lost that beautiful rose during jumping into that carriage.

She heard the soft and low steps coming down the staircase and it stops just before her. She looked into Anders's eyes before drew her glance back to the device. Her screwdriver fixed another bolt. Anders was silent, obviously waiting for her.

"Is she all right?" she asked not looking up at him. just reaching out for another instrument, prepared neatly on the workbench.

"She suffered only minor injuries, but she is still weak by the morphine. Let her rest and she wil be all right."  Solona from her peripherial sight saw him picking up a precision screwdriver and curiously examined it. "I have to admit Solas did an excellent work. I have never seen such a clear suture in my whole life. It won't leave any scar. They called him a prodigy for a reason."

Solona chuckled unamusedly. "At least he can fix something properly," and she snatched the instrument from his hands. "And don't touch anything." she ordered.

"You are charming as always, little sister," he snickered. Solona glared on him with her most annoyed expression that made Anders guffawing. She propped herself with her arms on the workbench and waited form him patiently to stop. "What are you tinkering," he inquired wiping out the tears from his eyes.

"An automated detonation device." She saw his eyebrows knitting and the incomprehension settling on his face. "It's a time bomb." she said in her most condescending tone.

"Andraste's knickers, WHAT?" he exclaimed as the smile froze off his face. "WHY?"

"To blow up a shipment." she answered dryly and returned to her task.

"Sabotage???" he yelled at her. "Are you completely out of your mind, Sol?" She took down her instrument and drove her glance back to Anders again, her expression calm and inexpressive. She never expected him to understand. "Don't you think this Red Jenny thing is pouring out of your hand? Petty crimes, break-ins are fine, but _sabotage_? It equals to treason. They will hang you for this if they find out. But they take this place and your scholarship away at minimum."

"You do not say anything that I did not already to myself." she replied.

"Then why are you doing this? You were always considered and grown-up even when we were kids and now you want to jeapordize everything you've earned with hard work?" Solona didn't answered just picked up another instrument. But Anders rushed to her picked it out from his hand and smashed to the wall. "WHY?"

Solona went to the window what faced to the docks, with clear view to the coming and going ships and the lighthouse in the distance what she gazed so much in her lonely hours.

"Do you remember the orphanage, Anders? Those days when the foster parents came?" She began, crossing her hands before her chest, deepening her nails into the flesh of her own arms. "They lined us up by gender and age, like we were some kind of item on the flesh market. And when they reached me they always said. _'What a pretty red hair, what a beautiful green eyes.'_ " She imitated some finical speech. "And when the caregiver mentioned myopia, they always said _'Oh'_ and switched to the next. I was shobby that nobody needed." She deepened her nails into her flesh more to not feel the more bursting pain in her stomach. "And then one day they came. And when Mother reached me and they mentioned my _defect,_ " she spitted the word out like it was to most hated one in the whole world, "she crouched to me, caressed my face and said, _'then I make glasses for her.'_ "

She turned to Anders and wiped those trickling tears on her face. "Our parents, they gave me purpose, they gave me everything. And when they died I was lost. But Ari and Evie gave me a purpose again. They are my only friends, my sisters and they are worth to jeapodize everything." Anders went to her and gently smoothed his hands down her arms.

"You also have me."

"We never really grew close to each other, you and I both know. We are some kind of partners in crime, but we were never real siblings, in any mean." Anders hugged her with all the brotherly love he had for her. 

"But you can always counting on me." He whispered and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"I know," she replied as peeled as they released each other. "And if you tell Evie what I said about her, you will regret the day you have born." And she punched one on his shoulder.

"I know, I know." he said. "I still remember your pranks of revenge. Maker, Sol, You are an evil mastermind." he snickered and Sol couldn't help but smiled as thought back those old, more innocent days.

The door slammed. "Speaking of the devil," Anders beckoned to the approaching Evelyn. She was elegant as always, a wrapped package in her hand, taking her steps to them rushingly like she wanted to get rid of something.

"Anders, it is good that I found you here." She greeted him. "I have someone who needs treatment. Could we visit you?" she asked.

"Of course Evie, anytime," he replied with a light bow and began to take his steps to the exit. "Oh, and Sol, could you visit me at the clinic's morgue later today? I have something what might interest you."

"Couldn't you just tell me, Anders, you know how much I hate that place," she replied shuddering by even the thought she had to visit it.

"I could, but I doubt you would believe it without seeing it with your own eyes." Solona pursed her lips but reluctantly registered it with a nod and Anders with a jovial sounding whistling left.

Evelyn turned to Solona, who crossed her arm before her chest and measured the black-haired girl suspiciously.

"Who needs treatment exactly?" she asked. Evelyn did not answer but it was enough to look at her, the slight blush on her face to know the answer. She handled her he package, that she put away into her safe without unwrapping it, perfectly knowing what it is. She wanted to burn it into ashes to not make her remember that her friend, one of the very few injured because of it, because she was incompetent to figure anything out about it.

"You are playing a dangerous game with the Captain, Evie," she said at last, hearing some fidgeting from the direction of the stairs.

"It was just... complaisance." Evelyn answered her voice was filled with uncertainty. 

Solona chuckled. Not on Evelyn but on her very self. She could see trough anything and anybody except herself. She was one great irony. Her wit, her sarcasm, her intelligence, everything was useless when she really need them , like they have never existed. 

Sounds of weak steps coming down from the stairs. Solona looked to the feeble Ariris staggering down, her skin looked paler if it was even possible, wrapped in fresh linen bandages. It was all her fault. "Ari!" Evelyn cried and ran to Ariris, supporting her gently as she came down the stairs. "Are you feeling better?" Evelyn asked, her voice shaking. 

Ariris smiled faintly and reached out to touch Evelyn's cheek with words unspoken. Evelyn sighed heavily. "You got him good too," she said. "Grazed him twice, on the side and the arm. Were you meaning to?"

"No, couldn't see through the smoke, I was shooting blind but aiming for the roof." 

Evelyn puffed her cheeks. "Thank the Maker then!" she said, still holding Ariris. "We need him!" 

"Is that the only reason?" Ariris asked her eyes gentle. 

Evelyn glanced away. "Naturally. I'm no fool."

"The device is ready to use," Solona said dryly trying to hide her trembling voice filled with remorse. "Ari, I need coverage until I set into work... and you have to activate it manually with a shot if I fail in some way to do it." 

_Are you all right. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault._ It banged in her from inside but nothing reached the surface. She couldn't tell to her or Evelyn how bad she felt herself that they put them into such danger. She never realized the cost what those samples needed. But something didn't allow her to show any of the storm inside. Though the last thing she wanted was to put Ariris in danger once again.

"I'll provide the bait for Cullen," Evelyn said as Ariris moved to sit down on a chair, Evelyn still holding her hand. "I'll try to buy as much time as I can for you."

"Can you handle the Captain?" Solona asked glancing to her meaningfully.

"Of course," Evelyn's answer was confident. Too confident.

"Can you?" she leaned on her workbench, her voice intent.

"He is eating from my hand, Sol. Consider it done." Evelyn smiled brightly. Solona nodded thoughtfully as reached out for her coat. 

"I need to go to the university and after to Anders. Evie, take care of Ari. And Ari, please rest some more. I need you at your best tonight." It sounded so heartless, so cold from her mouth, like what happened did not matter for her, just the precious samples they got for her.

She began to strode uncertainly trying to say something soothing but nothing felt good enough.

"I met the Detective this morning, Sol," Evelyn said with some amusement in her voice. Solona faltered and felt her heart thudding. "I don't know what you did with him, but it was damn effective. He looked utterly devastated." She felt her ear and cheeks burning and she trembled. What Alistair did to her was damn effective. She practically stopped functioning around him, or even when somebody mentioned him. 

"I don't want to talk about it," she rattled and rushed out from the laboratory. "And don't touch anything!"

Evelyn giggled as Solona ran off. "Awe, that's cute," she said. "Have you seen the detective? He's adorable, Ari. I'm glad it's easier for Sol." She moved to sit down on the tabletop next to Ariris. 

"I have met him," Ariris said. "He is actually surprisingly gentle. He comes by the brothel sometimes."

"Surely not!" Ariris looked away for a moment, hesitated.

"Not for that," Ariris smiled faintly. "But for information. A lot of my girls would trade him for it, but he just laughs and blushes. I have to save him."

Evelyn kicked her legs as they hung off the table. "Does... Cullen come by?"

Ariris gave her a sidelong glance. 

"Only asking," Evelyn said quickly. "In case it... comes up."

"He does not, actually," Ariris giggled. "I know some ladies met him once, I believe he was on patrol. They found his blush adorable and offered the night for free. He left quickly."

Evelyn smiled slightly at that. "He sounds the sort."

Ariris took her hand. "You fancy him?" 

Evelyn's blue eyes were startled, but she laughed brightly. "Don't be silly, Ariris! You know I don't! I have a job to do. Besides, when has who I fancied ever mattered?"

"But you fancy him."

Evelyn smiled weakly and looked away. "It's... silly. A girlish thing. We have more important things to do, don't we?"

Ariris nodded, and lay her head on Evelyn's lap, just like when they were children. Evelyn stroked Ariris's hair, silver locks falling from her fingers. They were as different as night and day. Evelyn always knew hat. Sh e had always tried to bring Ariris out of her shell, but she realized... that probably was not what Ariris wanted, or needed. She bit her lip. "Ari..." she began.

"Yes, Evie?"

"We're... friends, right?" she asked weakly. "If we... you don't think of me as your... master, do you?"

Ariris turned her eyes up to Evelyn, silver meeting blue, like the moon and the sea - ever locked in an intricate dance but never to meet. Ariris seemed to think about it. The fact that she had to think about it cut Evelyn's heart. "I... don't think so."

Evelyn forced a smile and leaned down to embrace Ari. "I care about you, Ari," she said softly. "You know that, don't you?" She felt Ariris nodding against her and Evelyn's eyes were troubled. Did she really know? Perhaps not... Because Evelyn didn't even know herself what she was to them. And based on what Solona and Solas had said, Evelyn wondered, not for the first time, if she was even good for them. 


	9. Revelations

Alistair groaned as the syringe found its way through his skin and flesh and the remedy spread in his veins. It felt more painful than a well-aimed left-straight.

The frivolous life drove people places like this. To the lowest part of the Dregs. Yes, he liked beautiful and silly girls, who believed he was smart and handsome and they spread their legs so easily. He loved the women who for some money made him believe her was worth something. But it was always temporal after sobering up from alcohol and lust he always realized how meaningless, how rootless this life was.

And that girl... her words in the gazebo... that innocent sparkling in her eyes… Solona... He liked the taste of her name on his tongue...

"There, this was the last one." Anders said as pulled out the syringe from his arm. "And for Andraste's sake, Alistair, try to be cautious. Next time maybe you won't be so fortunate. There are far worse diseases than clap."

“Like I was fortunate in anything in my life,” he disgruntled as took his shirt on. He raked his face with hands and shook his head to bring some life into himself.

He hated hangover, the taste of cheap booze and vomit in his mouth, the pulsating pain in his head and the constant nausea in his stomach. The world seemed more disgusting these times than it already was. The delicately painted whores, or courtesans as the fancy people called them, seemed vulgar and worn out, the silly girls who ran after him seemed utterly brainless and everything had the taste of ash. The streets were grey and dreary places sinking in the slough of sin.  And that morning… well, that was worse than the other thousands before combined.

“Hard night?” Anders asked as washed his hands in the basin. “The girl wasn’t pretty when you woke up this morning?” he mocked.

If only she wasn’t pretty in her own way. If only she was like the others before her. If only he didn’t care.

 _Solona Amell._ She was a legend in the scientific community. The more information landed about her on his table the more he was fascinated by her. The first woman ever who gained full scholarship. The first woman ever who published in the Thedas Science Journal.

 

 _“Solona Amell? Believe me, that woman is a machine. Works from dawn to dusk in the lab of the campus, writes her every test with excellent scores. I even doubt you would find hardly any slit between her thighs.”_ he got this description of her…

…and an interesting essay of her. _‘The Biochemical Reactions of Psychotic Drugs’._ Lyrium most of all. And an attached list of her researches she did for an unknown client. Expensive, top secret researches.

 

Alistair found it suspicious, or he became too paranoid after Meredith took away the drug case from him, but still, that girl in the gazebo was way too smart.

And then something happened when he asked her out. Something innocent glint in her eyes. The way those sharp words stuck in her. She was a damn good actress or the most honest girl he has ever met.

“I always wondered, do you ever tell these girls who you really are? Do they consider you as some kind of curiosity? Not every day you can spread your legs for a _royal bastard_ after all.”

Alistair chuckled as this badge left Anders's mouth. He could never get used to it. “Royal bastards are only good for one thing, Anders, being an embarrassment to the _Institution._ So they got a fancy flat, a cozy job, even supplies, until they pretend they never existed.”

“You are more peevish than usual after a ‘hard night’” he took these two last words between two quote marks of two fingers of his each hand. Alistair would find his poking even amusing but not that day. He already played the charming Detective with Cullen and that Trevelyan girl. He was fed up with pretending. He only wanted some tea and biscuit prepared by a red-haired girl.

“Have you ever met someone special, Anders? Someone who is fascinatingly smart and yet wonderfully innocent?” he asked, but the answer was an ironic laughter.

“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he replied.

“Then I met a fairy. That girl, her mind sharp like a razor, she works hard, harder than anybody. She has purpose, she has meaning.”

“Sounds like my little sister,” Anders snapped carelessly as sterilized his instruments.

Alistair frowned. “You never mentioned you have siblings.”

“Technically we are not siblings. We were adopted by the same foster parents, but there is no blood relation between us.” Alistair registered it with a hum. “This was the last dose, Alistair, you must be clean by now. And now go home and sleep. You look like shit.”

“I can’t” he raked his face again with his fingers and then running them through his ruffled hair. “I have many… arrangements for today.”

“In this case I can do nothing more for you. You may go now.” Alistair took his coat on, and took a glance on the rose pinned to the lapel. _She just dropped it._

He took the steps down lazily, like he wanted to delay his next destination as much as he could. Maybe this was his punishment. He broke so many hearts into shards… then when something special came… For the first time those candied words meant something… Blast it, he was so gloomy and sentimental and whiny.

He opened the wooden gate to get to the sun again, to feel those piercing rays on him what made his migraine worse…BAMM.

Alistair angrily looked on the person who clashed to him. “Hey, watch your st-”

Those frightened sparkling doe-eyes, those flaming red locks combed into a loose bun. Those lovely freckles on the nose and cheeks and the pale skin what awkwardness painted into pink.

“Officer Theirin…” she heaved. And that moment the world became a brighter place.

“Please, Solona, what happened with Alistair?” he chuckled. She took a step backward, snuggling the book in her hand to herself, like it was something lifesaving. “What an unspeakable pleasure to see you here.”

“I came to my brother. He is the doctor here,” she sucked her breath and bit her lower lip like wanted to unsay her words.

“So _you_ are the sister of Anders.” He exclaimed joyfully.

“You know him?” she asked.

“We used to go to the same student club,” he took a step toward her and she did one backward simultaneously. “What a convenient coincidence.”

“Yes, life is full with convenient coincidences,” she replied in low voice, “and with cruel tricks.”

“You rushed away so quickly yesterday, without any explanation. I hope I didn’t say anything that offended you.” She shook her head.

“No, you didn’t-“her eyes stuck on the flower in his lapel. “My rose…” she muttered.

“You dropped it.” It was a slight and bitter accusation.

“I lost it,” she replied.

He chuckled in relief and in the unending amusement of her innocence. “In that case…” he took the rose, a step toward her and pinned it into her hair and brushed some unruly locks behind her ears and his fingers wandered down on her burning cheeks in a soft caress. "Tell me, why is it that a smart girl like you looks at me like who is frightened to death every time I see her?” he whispered.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Then again. Then she squeezed her eyes and bit her lips again. “I should go,” it was not louder than the rustle of the leaves. And she began to stride to the gate. Alistair looked after her, that movement as she snuggled the book more to herself.

“Solona,” he cried after her and she faltered. “See you soon.” And he went to his business. The world definitely became a brighter place.

 

+++++

 

Solona ascended the staircase angrily and cursed herself. What an idiot she was, what a stupid, helpless chit she was. _What he had done to her? Why the words just disappear from her tongue every time she sees him._

She practically tore up the door of Anders’s office, tried to swallow those tears what wanted to break free. Taking the breaths deeply to calm herself and her trembling body down.

“Whoa,” Anders exclaimed. ”Easy, Sol. I know you missed me, but please, I need that door.” Nothing. Not a glare, a condescending comment, just the heavy pants. Anders went to her and soothingly smoothed his hand down her arms. “Are you okay? You look distressed, like you saw a ghost.”

“You could say that,” she cleared her throat and tried to force some composure on herself. “What Officer Theirin was doing here?” she inquired.

“Remedy, most of all for his broken heart. A girl hit him hard,” he chuckled. “But these things usually come and go in his case.”

"Yeah, you are probably right,” Solona hummed as swallowed that aching lump in her throat.

"Wait, is that a rose in your hair?" he asked as tried to reach out for it.

"Yes..." she said as shifted uncomfortably away from his hand. "And? What of it?"

"Nothing, it's just uncommon of you." he answered and Solona felt heat flushes her cheeks.

"It was... a gift." Anders frowned and amusement settled on his face.

"You have a _suitor_???" he snickered. Like it was so unbelievable. Because it really was.

"No," her answer was short and sharp. Solona cleared her throat again tried to hush this very awkward topic away. The last one she wanted to be was a target of mockery. “You said you want to show me something.”

Anders smirked as went to his desk, taking something out from the drawer, handling the vial to her. Solona’s mouth slackened as watched the red crystals in it.

“How did you get this?” She heaved “And you just store it like this? Are you insane?”

He laughed. “Relax Sol, this glass contains lead.” He beckoned to her and headed to the backdoor of his office. It lead to a narrow corridor, that always made Solona uneasy with the stink descended on that. The bile rose in her throat as they took the steps and reached the always freezing-cold chamber.

"Do you remember our research with lyrium? How we did not understand its reaction to organic life forms?" he asked as opened the door for her.

"You promised me that we'll never ever speak about that again. It was an utter mistake." She shuddered. She made so many mistakes in her life but this was her biggest. She always wanted that she thought was the best and yet every time she wanted to help just made things worse.

As they entered and her eyes stuck on the half-opened cadaver, every remained color left her face and her skin became like the one, who lied on that operating table, prepared. Anders gestured to her to come closer. Her strides were heavy until she reached the table. Every step was a big swallow to coop her urge of vomiting.

She hated death, hated the stink what rotten flesh oozed, the decay, the knowledge that human sense ends so unglorified way, like a pile of meat always disgusted her.

She often saw corpses in her mother’s study, that she liked to open, to see _‘what makes them thick’_ as she said, the blood that soaked the white linen of bandages, the stink what came from their and that col practicality on her face as pulled out the lifeless organs always filled her with dread. When her mother was in her study and worked with their cadavers she wasn’t a human… but she never dared to identify what she was.

Maybe that was the reason why she never liked biology. She mastered it, knew the terms, but everytime she opened an anatomy book her mind played cruel tricks with her, and she could swear that felt the smell of those corpses.

With two tongs Anders widened a cut, pulled the rigid skin and fat away until the dense fibers of muscles became visible. “Look,” and Anders pointed to the tiny red crystals among them. “And they are still growing. I could harvest them almost every week."

“This is not possible. What you are implying is not possible.”  She muttered as stared the red crystals.

“If Red Lyrium grows in human flesh, it means-“

“It’s organic,” Solona finished his sentence.


	10. The Sword Club

It was indeed a sword club as proclaimed by the sign above its door. Cullen stood outside it, light spilling out from the windows onto the cobbled streets, glittering over the wet stones. It was night now, and Cullen was technically off duty. Where he would have stayed to catch up on reports, now he… kept thinking of blue eyes. Which was daft, of course. She was a noble. Alistair had alluded to the fact that there was something about her he didn’t know. A little digging told him everything he needed to. She was the heir to a fortune. Well, not her, per se. But her husband. That was something he didn’t have to worry about.

Most noble women he had met were… tiresome, predictable, they all spoke the same way. Evelyn was odd. Sometimes, she laughed and fawned and blushed, other times, there was a sarcastic wit and a hardness to her voice that he noticed. And those eyes that drew him in like beacons… he remembered also that her skin had been silken yet callused. Evelyn had a strange duality about her, and she was totally out of his league - if he were interested, which he wasn’t! He was just here to… allay the fears of a frankly nice young woman.

Cullen knew in his heart of hearts that he was lying to himself. But there was no hope. Not that she was interested in that way. All she wanted was sword tips.

He stepped up to the sword club, wiping his boots politely on the hogs-hair mat at the door.  “Servant’s entrance is to the back,” said a voice from behind a gilt counter. Cullen looked down the nose of a burly man, blonde hair elegantly swept back. He wore a leather vest with the Dawson’s Sword Club crest on his chest. An instructor, Cullen surmised, seeing him as a simple guard since his coat covered the stripes on his sleeve.

And he hated being told to go to the servant’s entrance. “I am here to meet Lady Evelyn Trevelyan,” he said cooly.

“What would a Lady have to do with a policeman?” asked the sneering man. “I doubt she’s--”

“I doubt she would share her plans with a mere sword instructor,” Cullen shot back. “Or does she let the help know her schedule these days?”

The instructor coloured. “I’ll have you know I am a sword master - you’d best watch your mouth!”

“Are you threatening an officer?” Cullen asked coolly, taking off his coat. The stripes of captain on his sleeve caught the candlelight.

The instructor fell silent.

“Is Lady Trevelyan here?” Cullen asked again, draping his coat over his arm.

“This way, officer,” the instructor grated and led him into the building. The building reminded Cullen of a townhouse, probably owned by a wealthy merchant. Now, it was converted into a sword club, which Cullen took to beam nobles came by to hit each other’s swords and score points. There were swords hanging on the walls of the hallway, alongside paintings of notable members standing in grand estates with fluffy horses. Cullen was no art critic.

One of the rooms opened up to the hallway, the sound of swords clashing from within. The instructor tapped on the door. Cullen stepped into view. Evelyn was indeed there, wearing… wearing breeches. Andraste! She wore a protective vest over her body, and probably no corset. Not that it hid her narrow hips anyway. Her sleeves were white and flowing as she held her delicate rapier. “Captain!” she said brightly.

And she was not alone. A man with silver white hair stood with her, his eyes hard as he took in Cullen, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Though his hair was silver, his face had a certain youth about him. A noble, Cullen saw from the make of his rapier and that damn arrogant sneer. “He insisted, my lady,” said the instructor apologetically.

“Of course!” Evelyn said. “Thank you, Chauncy!”

Chauncy stood aside to let Cullen by. “Thank you, Chauncy,” Cullen said, the faintest hint of a smile at his lips. Chauncy glowered at him and left.

“You’re taking tips from commoners now, Evie?” asked the silver-haired man, holding the blunted tip of his sword with a gloved hand.

“Now now, Alexius,” Evelyn laughed, sounding for all the world like an airhead. “The good captain took a lot of convincing to come and give me tips.”

“You? Truly? Evie, you’re still much to novice to be taking tips from a man who battles common thugs. What does he know of fisticuffs and dignified swordplay.”

Cullen kept his acidic comments to himself. Fisticuffs, really…

“Alexius,” Evelyn pouted. “Go away, I want to train with the good captain.”

“What of me?” Alexius pouted.

“You’re much too advanced for me!” Evelyn laughed.

Alexius sighed. “I will see you again, then, Evelyn. Perhaps tomorrow at your parlour?”

“Oh, go away!” Evelyn giggled and pushed him off.

Alexius caught Cullen’s eyes, looked at Cullen’s impassive face and walked past him. Cullen refused to bow.

Evelyn sighed, all sign of her cheerfulness fading. “I apologise for that,” she said to Cullen, which surprised him. “Lord Du Grace has some very… Orlesian ideas about guards.”

“Does he?” Cullen asked, the bitterness dripping from his voice.

Evelyn looked downcast. “I have caused you offence,” she said.

“You are not the one who offended me, my la--” He caught her gaze. “Evelyn.”

She smiled at him. “Have you come to visit the apothecary?” she asked, walking over, carrying her sword with more ease than Cullen expected a ‘novice’ to.

“I came to give you those pointers you asked for,” he said. “If I can be of some help…” He took in the room. The windows were tall and the whole space was lit golden with chandeliers from a high arched ceiling. There were couches along the wall and a sword rack bearing all manner of blades. In the middle of the room was an empty space Cullen presumed they practiced in. The varnish of the wooden floor was worn from footfalls.

Evelyn caught him looking at the racks. “This way,” she said, taking his coat.

“You needn’t,” Cullen said as she wrapped his coat over her arms.

“Don’t be silly!” she laughed. “You’re my guest!” She blushed slightly then, looking down at the coat, her small hand running over the weathered cloth.

Maker, he should have laundered it! “Is-- something wrong?”

“It smells of you--” she said. Cullen’s cheeks lit up in a blush. She seemed to realize what she said. “Uh! I mean! I’ll put this away!” She nearly tripped on the carpet edge as she ran to a couch where she draped the coat over the handle.

Cullen cleared his throat, willing the blush from his cheeks as he walked over to a rack against the far wall. “So… are these swords all for use?” he asked, changing the topic. She was… adorable. Was Father Solas right about her? She seemed strange, of course, but an emptiness inside? Cullen wondered about that. 

“Mm,” she said, walking to the racks. “All of them, even the zweihanders and bastard swords.” She stepped up beside him at the racks. She slipped away her rapier into a slot. “What’s your favourite? Do you favour cutting or thrusting or slashing?”

“I-- was not expecting a noblewoman to ask that of me,” he smiled amiably.

“Well, it’s good to know,” she said. “I like the zweihanders. I know it’s an Anderfels weapon but I just love that I get to practice a move called the murder strike.”

Cullen stared at her in astonishment. “Did you just say--”

“You know the murder strike, right?” she asked.

“Not with zweihander. Guards do not carry around massive battlefield weapons as a rule.”

She giggled and looked down at the sword at his hip. “What’s this one?” she asked, touching the polished pommel of his sword.

He drew it as he stepped away from her, the blade snaking out of its sheathe. “It’s a very functional sword,” he said.

“But not your usual officer’s sword,” she smiled. “You’re supposed to be carrying a sabre, not a spadroon.” She held out her hand to him.

Carefully, he turned the blade over and handed the hilt to her. She took it and raised the sword with surprising confidence. She sighted down the blade, then rested it on the back of her fingers to feel the balance of it. “Lovely sword,” she murmured. “Flexible and strong, I’ll wager.”

“You know your blades,” he said, impressed.

“A girl needs a hobby,” she grinned, returning him the blade by the hilt. “Shall we spar with spadroons, then?”

“I thought I was going to give you pointers,” Cullen said. She had already drawn two swords and tossed him one. He caught it by the hilt.

“There’s only one way to give pointers,” Evelyn said. “You have to try me out.” She stopped. “Unless your injuries… Perhaps just help me with my footwork?”

He undid his top two buttons. “I’d like to give you a try,” he said seriously. He saw her cheeks tinging. “Not like that!”

She burst out laughing and raised her blade as she stood in the middle of the room. Cullen stood at swords length from her. She saluted with her blade, raising the hilt before her face.

Cullen watched her, saw her feet. They moved too precisely. She was no novice. “You know thugs won’t waste time salut--”

He caught the strike when it came from her, their swords meeting with a clanging of metal He parried the strike and stepped back, his blade held low as she circled him. “Was that deliberate?” he asked.

“I don’t know how thugs fight,” she said. “I figured they wouldn’t be polite.”

He smirked slightly. She struck again, Cullen blocking her moves, sidestepping her as her attack brought her past him. She smell of her skin was… sweat and leather and desire - Maker, help him. He stepped back as she rounded and leveled her blade at him. They circled, their feet thudding on the floor. “Why aren’t you hitting me?” she asked curiously.

“I am getting a feel of you,” he replied. “It pays to size up your opponent.”

He raised his sword in time to block her strike, their hilts catching, his foot supporting him as he was nearly pushed back. She was strong, but he knew she was holding back. “Is that a legal fencing move?” he asked.

She pushed away from him, staggering back. “No,” she said. “Cheating a little. Thugs won’t be polite.”

He moved in, his blade flashing. She blocked his low strike and parried high, using her blade as she gave ground. He brought in his other arm as she parried, his elbow aiming to her face - to his shock, she caught his strike with her free hand and her body twitched as she stopped herself from moving on pure muscle memory at the last minute. Cullen pushed away from her. She was breathing harder now, eyeing him. “Thugs won’t just use swords?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, watching her. “Neither will they stick to elbows. They will use everything. You leave yourself open holding back like you are.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Do you not?” he asked.

Her eyes hardened. “What makes you think I’m holding back?” she demanded, pointing her sword at him.

“Everything,” Cullen replied, the tips of their blades touching lightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Most of it good?” she smiled coolly at him, her eyes hard like shards of frost.

“Most of it at odds with the woman standing in front of me,” he said. Their blades crossed, drawing them close in their dance. Cullen felt her shudder as she moved by him, a tightness in her eyes.

“Don’t be too impressed, Captain,” she said with an airheaded laugh that he truly doubted. “Everyone knows noble women do little. Unless there’s a new snuff or perfume involved, or some soiree, we rarely get worked up. This is just playing for me. I’ll stop once I get married.”

She attacked, their swords ringing in the empty room. She spun with a particularly hard strike, Cullen’s blade catching hers as their hilts locked. She pushed against him with a strength that seemed strange from a tiny person, but he was stronger than she was regardless. She grit her teeth and staggered back, catching her balance. Cullen watched her, his mind racing as he took in her feet, her size, her fighting style. She gasped, tripping back suddenly. Cullen reached out to catch her as she fell. He winced sharply as he felt his wounds strain from grabbing her.

“Cullen,” she gasped, their swords limp against each others. She looked up at him with her eyes wide. “This is silly, why are we dancing?” she shook her head.

“It’s fine,” he said despite the sudden stinging from his arm and side. Damn! He had been using his right hand to fight, he thought his stitches would be fine.

“I can smell the blood, Cullen,” she said sternly, lowering her weapon. She shook her head, frowning. “I was selfish, I should have been more mindful of your wounds.”

“It was just as much my fault,” Cullen said. “I thought the stitches would be fine.”

She bit her lip, looking at the grandfather clock against the wall. “Will you let me return the aid you gave me?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“He’s closed now, I think - the doctor I mentioned. I can bring you in the morning but if your wounds have opened…” She took his sword arm and sat him down on the couch. “Please wait here.”

“Evelyn--” he called.

“Wait there!” she said sternly, pointing with her sword and then leaving the room.

Cullen sat and winced. He undid more buttons on his jacket and looked into his coat collar. He could see the bandages stained with blood. How long had he been oozing? The stitches were hurting all day to the point where he had begun to ignore them, but the oozing was pretty… severe. He needed the bandages changed now.

+++++

Evelyn replaced her sword on another rack and made her way down to the kitchen. The whole club was empty. It was late, after all. Cullen was a good fighter. He was holding back as much as she was, and he was astute. He hoped he didn’t see too much. All she had to do was hold him here long enough for Ari and Solona to sabotage the ship. She hoped they were alright.

As she set a brass basin under a pipe and turned the faucet, Evelyn sighed and shut her eyes, her fingers gripping the sides of the basin as the water fell. Their words washed over her again. Spoiled little princess, Solas had said. Damn the man. Damn him to the Void. He knew nothing about her - he never liked her even when they were younger. But Solas had stupidly set a standard. Solas loved Ariris so much. She knew how he would sneak in over the fence, how he would do anything to see Ari, to show her he loved her. Evelyn had asked the servants to keep it from her father, had paid them. She didn’t want Solas to stop visiting Ariris, to steal their kisses under the willow tree when Ari would read to him.

And Evelyn, young, stupid Evelyn, had wanted that so badly. He was always… _there_ for her. To the point where he even saw Evelyn as a threat to Ariris for all the mischief she and Ari used to get into. Her hands gripped the basin edge. She hated and admired Solas all at once, and wished he would just… disappear! But that would destroy Ari. So she had to endure his poisonous tongue.

And it stung that even Solona… Solona thought that way of her. Evelyn paid for everything - gave her everything, sold bonds to fund her research, broke into houses for her! Was she being like her father, though… thinking that money could solve everything? Was she being there for Solona? She bit her lip. She didn’t know how! And Ariris… she didn’t know what to do...

She felt water running over her hand as the basin filled to the brim. She turned the faucet off quickly. She drew a deep breath. First, she would calm down. It did not do for a lady to cry like a village girl. Next, she would do whatever was necessary, including lie and manipulate the nice captain who she… genuinely found charming in a stuttering puppy dog way. She bit her lip and ran her wet hands over her face. She had to be strong. It didn’t matter what they thought of her, all that mattered was her actions - money was not what they needed. They needed her to be there for them. So she would. Somehow.

She lowered her hands and went to a supply cupboard, pulling out some bandages, wound alcohol and gauze. Then she picked up the basin and made her way back to the room where Cullen was waiting. He had a way of getting under her skin. Some of the things he said… and he smelled nice. If only things were different. Regardless, Solona and Ari were more important. She needed him to do exactly what she needed, which was stay put until the job was done.

Cullen was standing up, pulling his clothing closed when she returned. He took a look at the basket  and water and surmised what she was going to do. “You don’t have to--” he said quickly.

“Can you change bandages around your chest on your own without pulling the wound open further?” she asked him sharply.

He looked at her helplessly.

“Do you know where there is a doctor open to receive you?” she added, setting the basin down on the floor.

Cullen glanced away. “It would not be-- You are a lady and --”

“Captain Cullen Rutherford,” she scolded, looking strange as she gazed up at him with those hard eyes and crossed arms. “There is a time for etiquette and it is not when you are bleeding. Sit down, if you please! If you’re so concerned, I should tell you that we’re the only two people left in this place, so your honour is assured.”

“It isn’t my honour that I’m concerned about,” he said sternly.

“My honour isn’t the one that’s bleeding!” she retorted, crossing her arms.

They stared at each other at an impasse. “Sit!” she snapped.

Cullen sat.

She sighed in exasperation as she turned him, seating herself behind him. “You need to take your coat off,” she said.

Cullen froze.

Maker’s mercy, she could smell the blood on his wounds. But he wasn’t moving. She wasn’t that repulsive, was she? Was she doing something wrong? “Would you really rather bleed out than let me help you?” she asked gently then as she sat on her heels on the couch.

He tensed his jaw, remaining silent. Was he really that shy? She sighed and covered her eyes with her hands. “I’ve got my eyes closed.” She felt him moving, turning to see her, and then heard him snort.

“Does this help?” she asked from behind her hands.

“Are you supposed to clean my wounds with your eyes closed?” amusement dripped from his voice.

“Well, you’re the one being shy,” she said, keeping her hands over her eyes. He chuckled and she felt the couch cushion moving as he settled back down. She heard the movement of cloth. He was taking his shirt off. Evelyn’s heart beat a little faster. She had never seen a man unclad before. And Cullen was… distractingly attractive. She felt a bit of cloth brush her arm. She couldn’t resist. Moving her fingers apart, she stole a look. His shoulder muscles rippled under his skin as he took his uniform off, his skin glinting under the candlelight. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she watched him, her cheeks burning. Did all men look like this? Surely not. No wonder her friends sighed over him. Cullen’s ears turned a bright shade of red as she watched him. “You’re looking,” he said as he folded his coat and sat there in his pants.

“I am not!” Evelyn protested, covering her eyes once again. She was sure she couldn’t hide the red in her ears, however. “Maker,” he chuckled. “Alright, open your eyes.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m not the only one who’s blushing. And this was your idea.”

She lowered her hands and smacked his good shoulder. “It was,” she said, trying to keep herself steady. She reached out and started to undo the bloody bandages from around his body. He had been oozing for a while, it seemed. She glanced at his skin as he sat still. His skin was peppered with scars across his back. She eyed them, wondering where they came from. So many scars, all in stripes. They looked like whip scars. “You lead a hard life,” she murmured, carefully lifting the bandage from his wound. The stitching was poorly done. “And whoever stitched you up did not do a good job.”

“I’ll have a word with our barracks medic,” Cullen said. Evelyn glanced at him. He did not address the comment about living a hard life. She let the matter drop, respecting his privacy. She wet a gauze in the water and gently began to clean the blood from around his wound. Cullen hissed despite himself. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, but worked on regardless. Ariris must have grazed him with the bullet. It was a mercy no one died that night. Cullen was quick on the draw and aimed shockingly well. And Ariris must have thought Evelyn was in danger to have let loose the hail of bullets from her modified gun. She worked the gauze around the wound, taking care not to touch the stitches.

“I’m surprise you know how to do this,” Cullen said, looking ahead as she continued to clean his wound.

“You keep saying that I surprise you. I can’t be all that surprising, Captain.”

“Cullen,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. She caught his eyes and felt the stupid blush coming to her cheeks. “And you are.”

Preconceived notions, as always. Yes, Evelyn knew she was odd, but she had built a reputation for being a bit of an eccentric noble. “Because I’m a noblewoman with interesting hobbies?” she giggled girlishly.

“Because you are a woman with a strange mind.”

Evelyn’s laughter stopped immediately, her eyes taking him in. He glanced away, seeming uncertain. “And I can’t figure you out.”

Evelyn’s heart skipped. No one had ever said that to her before. Figure her out? Most people who knew her seemed to know everything about her at first glance - or acted as if they did. Was she doing something to let on otherwise? She swallowed the hint of panic. If Cullen knew about her involvement, Ari and Sol would be implicated. She forced a smile. “A woman is always enigmatic,” she said, keeping herself in check.

“Enigmatic isn’t the word, I think.”

“What might the word be then?”

“Duplicitous?” he smiled faintly.

“Captain!” she sounded aghast, playing the part. Too close to home.

“Do you know about masks?” he asked.

Evelyn’s hand slowed on his wound. “Like the sort Orlesians wear?” she asked brightly.

“Yes. Sort of,” he said. “The Orlesians have it easy, perhaps, compared to other nobles. They wear masks of their status. And they can physically take it off. They become their true selves. Not that it’s necessarily what happens, but it’s a symbol of something important.” Evelyn kept her face impassive as she set the gauze aside.

“Other nobles have it harder,” Cullen said. “They don’t take off their masks. Sometimes, not ever. Like a caged bird.”

_It’s a song bird, all the way from the jungles of Rivain,” the butler had said as he presented Evelyn with the cage, gilt and beautiful. The bird was tiny, its breast yellow, with black markings over its back and eyes. It looked like a little honey bee. Honeybee she had called it, and its singing made her sad. It sang for food. It wouldn’t sing otherwise. “It wants to go home,” she’d said._

_“It is home, mistress,” said the butler. “And your father sends his regards. He will be home by autumn.”_

_Another summer without him. More gifts from abroad. Evelyn had screamed, thrown a tantrum as Ariris cowered in the corner. The butler left her to her tantrum. Then Evelyn threw the cage door open and let the bird fly away. It fluttered into the sky. For a fleeting moment, Evelyn wished she could follow._

_“It’s going to die now,” Ariris cried. “It doesn’t know how to live here. You should have cared for it.”_

_Evelyn stared after the bird, realizing what she had just done. There was no use in running away. She didn’t know how to live out there. Unlike the bird, she was smart enough to realize that freedom was death--_

But to Cullen, she said nothing and forced a smile as she wet another gauze with the alcohol. “Caged birds sing pretty songs,” she replied brightly. “I don’t know if that’s what you’re talking about, though.”

He hissed as she set the gauze on his wound in his side and gently cleaned it with the alcohol. Evelyn felt his hand on hers, holding the alcohol off his skin. “That’s actually worse than iodine,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” she said, resting her other hand on his shoulder in an unthinking gesture of comfort. “Just a little more.” He nodded. She dabbed the wound carefully with the alcohol soaked gauze. Then she set that aside and picked up a roll of bandages. She raised herself slightly and reached under his arms and around his chest, unrolling the bandage as she went. Her heart was hammering in her ears, the smell of him filling her universe, doing things to her body she hadn’t felt so strongly before. She bit her lip, trying to focus as she watched his chest rising and falling with his breath. He felt hard, yet tender at the same time.

“Why do you fight?” Cullen asked, his voice by her ear. Evelyn’s fingers slowed on the bandage roll. “What drove you to get so good with a sword? You’ll never need it. You’ll be protected your whole life.”

She lowered her eyes. “It’s just a hobby,” she said.

“Why do you hide the truth?”

“Oh Captain,” she laughed her airheaded laugh. “Why do you concern yourself with such things? They are truly girlish problems--”

“Because I can’t figure you out,” Cullen cut in. “And I want to.”

She smiled, a coldness to her eyes. “Strange, I thought I was easy to figure out. I don’t know why you’re making a big deal of this. I’m just a noblewoman who’s eccentric because she can be. That’s it.”

“That can be it.”

Evelyn glanced at him as her fingertips pressed against his chest, feeling a softness in her heart as his words gently cajoled her. It was so odd that he asked her, that he kept asking her. Why was he so keen to know? “You’d be the first to think so,” she said softly. “Spoiled little princess, that’s what most people think of. I guess they’re right.”

“Are they really?”

She sighed. “Must you ask so many questions?” she said.

“I’m a policeman.”

She chuckled. “And a good one at that. A good man, that’s what I’ve heard of you. And I’m not just saying that because you’re shirtless in front of me.”

He chuckled and she saw the blush creeping from his chest to his face. “You’re changing the subject,” he said. “Who was it that pushed you to fight?”

She grinned at him. “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you,” she said brightly. He was so shy, might as well use it. She did not want to talk about it. Having someone so insistent to know about her that wasn’t heard from rumour was… disconcerting.  

Sure enough he sputtered, mumbling incomprehensibly as she tied the bandage knot. She giggled. “Awe…” she sighed playfully. “Too bad then--”

“Fine.”

She stared at him, his honeyed eyes were serious. She felt her breath growing shallow. She had never kissed a man before - She wasn’t expecting him to agree! She fumbled with the knot. “You’re j-joking,” she muttered.

“You offered.” Cullen smiled faintly, the scar on his lip moving. Evelyn swallowed. “Who pushed you to fight?”

“Why is this so important to you?” she asked, turning to him as he looked at her over his shoulder, her hands on his shoulders.

“I’m intrigued.” 

But he knew nothing about her! He was just a captain, it wasn’t as if her father would even think about letting him marry her! He knew that, surely! She glared at him. What game was he playing? And then he moved, her body freezing as it had done years before when Solas... He tilted his head, coming closer. Evelyn stared ahead, unseeing, her heart pounding, her body locked in stasis, not a muscle under her control. Then he stopped, his honeyed eyes thoughtful as he looked at her. 

And he pulled away. 

Evelyn stared at him, her eyes wide, vulnerable, full of an old fear. He didn’t kiss her! She was… confused. Alexius kissed her for what he wanted, kissing despite her protests, which he took to be… play. Solas had… for his own sick games. And Cullen was going to do the same. 

Except, he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I… I thought you were alright with-- Forgive me, it was foolish of me, selfish.” He put her hand on hers as they rested on his shoulder, and she realized she had been trembling. Evelyn pulled her hands away from him and sat on her heels, her hands clasped between her thighs and she looked away, her heart winding down from an intense purr until she could hear the individual heartbeats again. 

They sat in silence. Cullen looking away, his cheeks red, hands gripping the soft cushions of the couch. He sighed then. “What must you think of me now,” he murmured, sounding as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. She bit her lip, her words stuck in her throat. Evelyn glanced at him with her eyes wide, thoughtful, frightened, curious. Had she done something wrong such that he wouldn’t kiss her? Did she even want him to kiss her? No! Never! And yet-- And yet--

She twisted her hands between her thighs. “My sisters,” she whispered. “I fight for my… I mean-- the people I care for. Why else do people fight?”

She felt like curling into a ball to hide from him. He was - he had the upper hand. He always had the upper hand. He was getting under her skin, not the other way around. It was all a game to him, wasn’t it? All those questions about her, they weren’t because he cared. Stupid Evelyn. She wanted to run away from the disappointment that was surprisingly bitter in her mouth. 

But he didn’t kiss her. It was a foolish bluff to begin with, and Cullen had called it. Yet he stopped. She didn’t know what was going on, she had to leave. This was… this was not-- Ariris needed her. Solona needed her, but she needed to leave this storm behind.  

She gathered the bandages and stood up. He caught her hand as she hurried away. She looked down at him, breathless as she took in his bare body, his heart in his eyes. Something shone there that never did in Alexius’s eyes, something Solas knew nothing of. Something within Cullen, flaring like a sun - sincerity. “Evelyn…” he said, his tone apologetic, worried. What was he worried for? It was Evelyn’s fault! Her fingers gripping the bandages tighter. 

Then an explosion rocked the city. They had done it! Cullen stood up, looking out the window. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it quickly. “I have to go,” he said, looking at her apologetically, his top button undone. 

She wished he wouldn’t, and felt disgusted with herself for it. Good. Go. Evelyn hugged her arms. “No rooftop chases,” she said quietly. “Be safe.” What was she saying? She didn’t know any more, the words came from somewhere inside.

“I will,” he said, pausing by the door. He seemed to blush uncertainly as he hesitated. “I’ll… see you soon.”

She smiled despite herself and nodded. He vanished out the door. Evelyn sighed and turned around and saw his coat on the chair. She picked it up and ran her hand over the weathered, thick cloth, made to shield from wind and rain and snow. It did smell of him. 

She shook her head and blinked back the tears. Stupid Evelyn. She had things to do. She needed to get to Sol’s lab, to make sure they were safe. No time for questions. Put it back where it came from. Put it away. She had things to do. Cullen was… Cullen was not something to be addressed. Taking the coat with her, she turned and went to change her clothes. Where she was going, dresses were unnecessary, and she had no time to think of Cullen and his gentle questions and tender lips. 


	11. Confessions

There were children in the chantry yard, something Alistair was not surprised to see. It was the day time, and for two hours a day, the children of the slums would come to Father Solas’s chantry yard to learn basic arithmetic and reading. They would sit under a wooden awning with a faded blackboard against the wall. Solas would teach them from the Chant of Light, that strangely benevolent smile on Solas’s face was truly at odds with the way Alistair knew the strange priest to be. He leaned against the wall of the Chantry as he watched the lesson. 

 

Solas smiled. And it wasn’t one of those smiles that told Alistair he was probably thinking of twelve ways to peel the skin from your face sort of smile. This smile was… genuine. He would even laugh as the children shot him strange answers. And he pat a kid on the head. Creepy priest Solas just pat a child on the head in a… nice way. It was odd, but Alistair got the impression that Solas loved children. Which was a pity, considering what happened to his own. 

 

He lit up a cigarette as he waited idly. As he inhaled and let out a breath of smoke, he wondered if Solona liked children. Way too early to be thinking about that, Theirin, he told himself. She did run off from the date. But she had the rose again, and the world was brighter. Which was daft, of course, since he had other things to worry about rather than thinking of women. Ah well. Work beckoned. He hoped Cullen was having better luck with his date. Seriously, Evelyn Trevelyan. Cullen didn’t know the world of pain he was walking into. Nobles were difficult. Which was why Alistair prefered working in the Yard, helping people from the Dregs. But he was always half-noble, wasn’t he? It takes a lot of convincing for the poor to trust him. 

 

Father Solas was pointedly ignoring him. Not that it mattered. Alistair waited patiently for the lesson to end. Eventually, the cheerful chorusing of the children ended and Solas sent them on their way. Alistair ambled over as Solas began to stack the little wooden stools the children sat on. “I didn’t know that Andraste was burned at the stake,” Alistair smiled, ambling over to help Solas gather the stools.

 

“Clearly your religious instruction is lacking, Officer,” Solas said. “To what do I owe the honour of your visit, now that you are blessedly sober?”

 

Alistair winced. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “I was a little drunk. But now, very sober.”

 

“Blessed be the Maker,” Solas said dryly. He went to the chalk board and started dusting it with an old rag. "I assumed you'd be busy at the docks after the explosion. Doing your job... or whatever it is you pretend to do."

 

“I’d like to make a confession.” Alistair’s eyes shone with innocence. 

 

Solas sighed heavily as he lowered the cloth. Yes, this was a ploy, but Alistair knew that Solas had to at least pretend to play the role of a good priest. Solas opened the door to the chantry and led the way inside. The church smelled, it always did. Not just because of the location, but Alistair suspected that Solas’s hobbies caused a certain odour. The pews were empty and mouldy, as were the confession boxes. Alistair trampled his cigarette on the chantry floor and sat inside the booth. Solas sat in the other. The box was small, cramped for Alistair’s shoulders and oddly clean because of the lack of use. He cleared his throat. 

 

Solas slipped open a panel and Alistair saw him through the delicate bronze latice grille. “Speak, my son and place your sins before the Maker’s mercy,” Solas intoned. 

 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Alistair said. “I have come across something that has puzzled me. I may need the Maker’s help with this one.”

 

Solas’s cold eyes turned to him. Alistair took out the little box and placed it on the little ledge between them. He slid it through the gap in the latice grille. Solas took it and opened it. “Red lyrium,” he noted dryly as the red spilled out onto Solas’s face. Then he shut the box. 

 

“Yes, and it’s growing more troublesome,” Alistair said. “You mentioned the explosion last night, yes? A shipment blew up. It’s spreading, and it seems some other parties are trying to stop it. That’s our job.” 

 

“You are doing a stellar job indeed,” Solas said, setting the box down. 

 

“Yes, we’re having trouble. We need to find out how to identify addicts. The symptoms seem to vary. Can you project the possible symptoms of red lyrium addiction?”

 

“Are you asking me to assist you with this? I have had enough of red lyrium, what incentive--”

 

“Ariris gave me that box.”

 

Solas’s eyes lanced into Alistair, cold and reptilian. 

 

Alistair sighed. “It’s true. A customer… took some. And he was a little _rough_. Don’t worry, justice caught up with him. He was run over by a cart. Pretty violently. He wound up in pieces - which is bloody bizarre but…” But Meredith insisted that was the cause of death. Daft. Stupid. Alistair was being run in circles. The noble’s body was in the morgue with Anders. He looked at Solas. “Will you help us?”

 

“And if I say no?”

 

“Well, then I’ll be on my way. I’ll have to look into other cases. Like how a noble run over by a cart wound up in several pieces. Strange, don’t you think?”

 

“Strange indeed, Officer Theirin.” Solas smiled slightly. “Let me offer you something to distract you while you allow me time to work on this for you. No doubt you are looking into who is responsible for the spread of this drug through the city. I suppose you have wondered why the drug has remained in the underground for so long, why the drug has not become an epidemic among the poor?”

 

Alistair tilted his head curiously. “Why?” 

 

“Fashion comes from the top down, Officer Theirin. Red lyrium is more expensive than blue, and judging from how stumped you are, perhaps you should investigate those who can afford it - or afford to bring it in.”

 

“Should I now?”

 

“Who in the city has the biggest share of the port, the largest mover of goods, the one most able to transport with minimum suspicion?”

 

Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “Who, Father? Pretend I’m a complete oaf.”

 

“Have you looked into the bills of lading of Trevelyan Industries?”

 

Alistair leaned back in the booth. He knew of Solas and his link to Trevelyan. He knew there was some sort of history there - surely there would be. But by all accounts, Trevelyan and his daughter had been kindly to their servants, including Ariris. “Are you accusing the Trevelyans of bringing in red lyrium, Father?”

 

“Certainly not, Officer. I was merely thinking aloud.”

 

“I see,” Alistair’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Fascinating thought. There’s no love lost between you and the Baroness, is there? What was it, Father? What was it that she did that would have you throw her under the carriage? Was she the other woman?”

 

Rage not becoming a priest flashed in his face. “If you think I have ever had any desire for her--”

 

“I wasn’t talking about her being the other woman to you, Father,” Alistair’s words cut through the bronze grilles. “I knew you were cold towards the family, but this is a little bit surprising. And I know the Captain came to speak with you earlier. What did you tell him?”

 

Solas smiled, and Alistair felt that reptilian gaze rake through him. “I am merely doing my civic duty. As you say, you are doing a stellar job tracking down the red.”

 

Alistair kept his sneer under control. Two could play at this game. “True,” he sighed. “We’re terrible. Best get working on this, Father. We wouldn’t want the red to trickle down here. Maker knows who the first victims of the addicts will be in the Dregs - nobles come here for one reason, and one reason only, after all. But I’m sure you’ve already seen the effects of the red in a very… personal way.”

 

He scratched his stubble and looked away. “I also have told lies, been a bad boy, had unclean thoughts once or twice a day, not sung the chant and took a meat pie without saying thank you to the nice lady who gave it to me. I have sinned,” he said flippantly. 

 

Solas’s voice was hard in reaction to Alistair’s flippant tone. “The Maker hears your sins. Do you stand before him asking forgiveness?”

 

“Don’t we all, Father? Don’t we all ask him for forgiveness?” Alistair sighed, his eyes wide.

 

“Then recite the Threnodies five times as penance, and Maker have mercy upon you, my son.” Solas’s voice was like a whip. 

 

Alistair smirked. “Thank you, Father. I feel greatly cleansed. Keep in touch.”

 

He opened the door to his confession booth and stepped outside. Solas did not follow. Hopefully Solas got the hint. The more lyrium spread, the more his precious Ariris was in trouble, the more it was his fault. Alistair lit up another cigarette as he headed out of the chantry. Time to move on. Cullen needed his help.

  
  



	12. Red Jennies

The docks were a disaster zone. Cullen’s guards were all over, barricading the scene of the explosion. There was no doubt of the red lyrium now. The ship was half sunk in the dock, partly sitting at the bottom of the Drakon River, its hold blown open. Red lyrium clawed at the sky in spires blasted apart. It was like a spreading hand reaching upwards from the water. And it sang. It sang so strongly. Cullen had to have security just to check that none of the guards clearing the scene of the shards had taken away anything. The last thing he wanted was his own men on the stuff. He stayed away in a shop that opened to the scene of the explosion. His men had detained the sailors who had been ordered off the ship at gunpoint. They were being interviewed by men from the yard now. Cullen could hear Carroll’s voice whining from the shop’s back room as he interviewed the sailors. The man was incompetent. Where the hell was Alistair?

 

Cullen looked over the bills of lading before him. Most of it was apparently cargo for various companies. This was a consignment vessel - it took anything of value from anyone and transported it. Unfortunately, that did little to help Cullen trace the source of the Red Lyrium. He didn’t know which boxes held the red, and so couldn’t determine where they came from. But he could investigate where they were due. He closed the folder of the bills of lading and reached for his cup of coffee. It was his third. He had to be alert. The door slammed open.

 

Cullen looked up and saluted at the imposing woman entering the shop. She wore the Guard Commander’s uniform, though her insignia was for the Yard. Her hand rested on the pommel of her sword at her hip. Cullen saluted crisply.

 

“Captain,” she greeted, her voice harsh.

 

“Commander Meredith,” he replied.

 

“At ease. Report.”

 

“The guards are in the midst of clearing up the lyrium and containing it. We fear that nowhere is a safe place - it’s least harmful when encased in lead.”

 

“And the perpetrators?”

 

“Detective Carroll has been interrogating witnesses, Commander.”

 

And there Alistair came, sauntering in with his badly pressed suit and his hair a mess. Cullen wanted to shake the man. This was Alistair’s pet case, where the hell had he been? Meredith looked him over. “What are you doing here, Theirin?” she demanded.

 

“Reporting!” Alistair saluted lazily. “We have reason to believe that this was an act of sabotage.”

 

Cullen stared at Alistair, frowning in puzzlement. Alistair just arrived - why would he presume such a thing?”

 

Meredith appeared to have thought the same and snorted. “And your evidence?”

 

“Red lyrium is commonly transported in a highly stable state, bound in lead. It is impossible that the substance could have exploded like this. Otherwise, other cases of similar combustions would have been reported before, ser,” Alistair saluted lazily again.

 

“You make a fair point,” Meredith conceded. “But still, you are chasing shadows. It is a huge presumption to make. This is probably a turf war then.”

 

“Ser, no, ser,” Alistair said. “My contacts report that none of the underground groups is bringing in the red, not even Carta. They won’t touch the stuff. They believe it evil.”

 

“Superstitions, now?” Meredith sneered.

 

“No, ser. Culture,” Alistair’s eyes shone like beacons.

 

“Give me something solid or else stop wasting my time, Theirin!”

 

“We have reason to believe that Red Jennies are involved in this case of sabotage.”

 

“The terrorist group?” Cullen blinked.

 

“They do not see themselves as that. They prefer to think of themselves as rebels, liberators--”

 

“Proof, Theirin? Or are you chasing smoke again?”

 

“Eye-witnesses report that two women fled the scene. My contacts have also reported that the Friends of Red Jenny are working against the red lyrium trade.”

 

“Why would a terrorist group want to stop the trade?”

 

“Because it threatens people? Because the red has trickled down from middle society? Because its spread is unknown and its effects could threaten the city?”

 

“Enough!” Meredith snapped. “I have had it with your conspiracy theories, Theirin. The red is dangerous, but this wide-spread effect you claim it has I’ve yet to see evidence of. All I have are your ‘contacts’. Spare me. You think these Red Jennies are behind this? Then make yourself useful and bring them in!”

 

Alistair saluted this time, crisp and precise. “Ser.”

 

“Andraste preserve me, why was I made to babysit?”

 

“Don’t know ser. Sorry, ser. Maybe your gentle demeanor and kindness, ser?”

 

Cullen winced. It was like Alistair was on a death wish!

 

Meredith scowled at him. “Good thing I can’t fire you, Theirin,” she said coolly. She walked away from him and into the back room where Carroll was having his interview.

 

Cullen shook his head at Alistair. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

 

“Maybe,” Alistair shrugged.

 

Cullen shoved the folder of the bills of lading at Alistair. “Make copies before they’re taken away,” he said. “See me in my office this afternoon.”

 

Alistair grinned and cockily saluted him. “Yes, Captain,” he smirked and ran out of the shop. Cullen shook his head. Alistair was far too confident in his position to be snarking Meredith.

 

A knock from the door made them look up. A palace guard saluted. “Captain Rutherford,” he said. “Minister Mac Tir requests your presence at the palace, ser.”

 

Alistair put his hand on Cullen’s shoulder comfortingly. “Hang in there, friend,” Alistair said.

 

Cullen sighed and pushed his hand off. “Do what I told you to, Theirin - unlike you, I can be fired. Don’t mess this up.”

 

He stepped out into the chilly day. “Where’s your coat?” Alistair asked.

 

Cullen paused in the middle of smoothing down his hair. He looked awkward for a moment. “At the sword club,” he said and he walked away hurriedly.

 

+++++

 

The office of Anora Mac Tir, Minister of Home Affairs, was always perfect. Impeccable in its design, not a pencil out of place, just like her. Cullen stood at attention before the minister as she sat in her high backed chair behind her massive oaken desk. Cullen had come to accept his fate that it was his job to be told off by her, and she often did tell him off. Few things were perfect enough for her liking, including him. “I trust you have the situation under control, Captain Cullen,” she was saying. 

 

“The red lyrium is being contained as we speak, Minister,” Cullen said, staring ahead. 

 

“And these saboteurs?”

 

“The Yard is investigating.”

 

“That is good. I can trust Meredith’s work on this.”

 

“Minister, there is the issue of the red lyrium also,” Cullen said. “It is becoming a problem. We--”

 

“Where are the figures?” her voice cut in. Blast, Cullen knew this was coming. But he knew how to deal with her. 

 

“Minister, we have none because the Yard was instructed not to share the case with us,” Cullen pointed out. “If we could work with the Yard, we will be able to investigate the extent of the red lyrium’s spread and usage.”

 

“If it has not spread through the Dregs, I doubt it is a problem, Captain,” she said, steepling her fingers. 

 

“With respect, Minister, there is more to Denerim than the Dregs.”

 

She chuckled. “Are you proposing you send men to kick down doors in the Borroughs? On Drakon’s Rise?”

 

“Not… entirely,” he said. “But this is an issue, one we need to investigate. If we could work with the Yard on this we could nip the problem in the bud before it gets out of hand.”

 

“Out of the question,” she flipped her wrist. “You have bigger things to worry about than a new recreational drug. I will not authorise resources to be used to track down every bit of snuff and aphrodisiac that comes into Denerim.”

 

Cullen frowned. “Minister, I must respectfully disagree,” he said. 

 

“Your job is to ensure the civil peace in Denerim, Captain,” she said. “Yet you report that saboteurs are able to waltz into the docks, plant an explosive so powerful and reactive that this red lyrium blows up shaped like a flower? That is what you should be looking into. The perpetrators must be stopped and brought to justice - visible justice for the good of commerce.” 

 

Cullen stared ahead as he got the orders he did not want to hear. “And the lyrium?”

 

“We all know of your personal… quest to stop the spread of lyrium, but we have too little information. This should distract you from your primary duty, however. I expect you to keep the peace. These saboteurs are not part of that peace. I want them brought in. That’s an order.”

 

Cullen’s jaw tensed but he saluted. “Yes, Minister.”

 

“Good, I trust we will not have another case of a shipping vessel blowing up,” she went on. “I would hate to have to discuss your appraisal so early in the year.”

 

“Understood, Minister,” Cullen said, his voice tight. 

 

“Dismissed, Captain.”

 

Cullen saluted again and turned on his heel, heading out the door and shutting it behind him. He frowned, staring at the carpet for a moment. He was barred from investigating the red. Which was strange. Why would they stop the investigation? How could they not see that a new kind of lyrium was a problem? For the good of commerce indeed. She valued money more than the lives of the people. Alistair was right, this reeked of… something. If not politics, then something else. They would need a push to get the proper investigation started. Cullen dreaded finding out what that push might be, once the other shoe fell. 


	13. Cruel Tricks

Alistair sat on the railing of the archway and lit cigarettes, one after another... and waited. For almost two hours now but she did not show up. Students came and went, but never Solona. He got the feeling that maybe it was a mistake to have come. He couldn't wait there for eternity hoping she  _might_  show up once. He never did things like this. He never waited for a girl, they came to him or when it was needed he payed them to wait for him.

 _Life is full of convenient coincidences... and cruel tricks._  She had said that. And she was right. The screwdriver that he found in the alleyway after the sabotage gave him an excuse to seek her out and it seemed so absurd that he spent hours on that railing, jumping up every time a skirt passed by, hoping that it was her. Like he was a fucking teenager who was in love for the first time and lurked after the targeted lady with misty visage. Life was full of cruel tricks.

She was first in many ways. The first one who moved something in him, the first who crawled under his skin, the first who mattered somehow. The first he did not just want to take and leave-- in shame pretending it never happened. She was like a sweet disease from which he did not want to be cured.

"Sir-" a thin boyish voice addressed him. "Smoking is strictly forbidden in the campus."  Alistair looked up on the black-haired grease ball, the crest of the university on his coat, and with the grimace trampled the cigarette on the stone railing.

"Do you know Solona Amell?" he asked from the boy.

The boy took a phlegmatic shrug as swept his disdainful eyes through him. "Everyone knows her."

"Do you know where she is now?"

He shrugged again "Supposedly at the laboratory as always. That woman works there like a maniac." Alistair ignored this comment as stood up and towered over the student. He knew his kind so well. The well prepared tweet coat, and snow-white shirt, neatly combed hair. A scion of a wealthy family who just spent some time there before taking his father's place. He hated his kind. They always thought the world was theirs and the ugly truth was they were right.

"Show me the lab." He ordered in low, husky voice, filled with intimidation.

"W-why should I do that?" he muttered. The side of Alistair's mouth turned to an intimidating smirk as pulled his coat away, making his badge visible. The boy winced.

"To avoid obstructing the course of justice, par example." The black-haired boy nodded anxiously and beckoned. He took his steps fast, and it strangely amused Alistair that he scared the shit out of the boy, and he wondered what secret thing he had done to be so nervous around an officer. He stopped before an opened door, right to her before the boy vanished rapidly from Alistair's eyes.

Alistair stopped in the door frame, leaned on it idly and lit on a cigarette as watched her. As she stirred the liquid in the vial with deliberate motions, watching the substance with that sparkling determination in her eyes, as she made her calculations on the chalk-board and took notes with a fountain pen, staining her fingers with the ink. Her face white by the chalk, her hair in her eyes.  She never looked up, even for a moment, just buried in her work, like her life depended on it. He could watch this scene for hours and still he couldn't get bored. She had purpose, she had meaning, she had everything he never had.

And as he looked through her simple and decent clothes, he began wonder how could she looked under it. Was her skin covered with freckles like the red-haired girls usually were? He imagined the curve of her shoulder and waist. Whores always wore corsets to make themselves more slender, to make their breasts more desirable, to make some illusion they are beautiful but they weren't. They were disgusting and filthy, just like him. They matched, he matched to that world.

"Hey-" Someone shouted, making Solona to wince and almost dropping the glass in her hand. "We are working with highly explosive and flammable materials here. Drop that thing at once." Alistair with a humble apologize dropped the cigarette and trampled it, his moves strictly supervised.

Solona looked up at him, letting the vial slip out from her hands and smash on the floor, staining her dress with the contain. She grew taut and the breath stuck in her, her face so white that the chalk mark disappeared. He always scared her but he never knew why. Since he asked her out at that very place he now waited for her she always seemed like she wanted to run away.

"Alistair," she mouthed but no voice came out of her mouth. Alistair began to walk to her. She took some steps backward until her back hit the chalk-board. He always had the feeling like he cornered a wounded prey.

“Solona, it is harder to find you than I thought,” he said soft voice as reached her, taking her hand and exhaling a kiss on it. It had the smell of lavender. Whores and pretty lewd ladies always used perfumes to conceal their rot, which always penetrated through the thick mist of artificial scent. Her scent was natural, it was _pure_.

“You sought for me?” she muttered. Alistair with a soft smile stepped away giving her some space. Solona went to the workbench and turned to him again, grabbing the side of the table, deepening her nails into the wooden surface like it was something lifesaving she could hang on.

“Actually, I need your expertise,” and he took out the screwdriver, neatly wrapped into a linen handkerchief. He unpacked it and handled to her. “Do you know what this is?”

“I-it’s a screwdriver.” she stammered, her voice trembling. Alistair chuckled.

“I know it’s a screwdriver. I thought as an engineer you can tell me more about it. What kind of instrument is this and for what they use it.” Solona rolled it in her hand before gave it back to him.

“It’s a precision screwdriver, used to calibrate tiny or very delicate devices. It is a very high-quality instrument,” she rattled as deepened her nails more in into the table. Why she seemed always so frightened? What did he do to make her feel like this? "I have a similar one," she muttered and Alistair could swear that for an invisible moment she twitched.

Alistair hummed as took it back into the inner pocket of his coat. “Thank you for your time and I’m sorry I ruined your… well, whatever you were doing.” She smiled feebly and shook her head, casting her eyes to the ground.

"Or you know what, I'm not sorry. I'm happy I can be with you." She exhaled a trembling sigh, biting her lips, her cheeks turning to pink in the most innocent and adorable way.

He couldn't do anything but chuckle as his eyes wandered to the unwrapped blueprint on the table, on the precisely drew lines and curves what gave out something he has never seen before. Solona followed his gaze and when her glance also rested on the paper she hastily jumped up and rolled up the paper.

“What is that?” Alistair asked.

“I-it’s a blueprint.” she muttered. “A machine I've been working on for a while.”

“What machine?” he inquired and the funniest thing was he really wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her and everything that was related to her.

“It’s an aircraft.” Alistair’s mouth slackened in honest fascination. “A machine using all advantage of the aerodynamics can fly,” she said so uncertainly, so coyly like she wasn’t created something wonderful, something what could shake the whole world. “It’s in fairly experimental state at this point."

“But you really built this?” She nodded feebly casting down her eyes.

"Flying like a bird on the sky... That's my dream," she whispered. Alistair never had any dreams worth working for-- just a pair of tits in his face and storng booze in his gut. He just floated with the flood without roots.

He closed the distance between them and propped her chin, making her to look at him again. “Do you realize how truly amazing you are?” And he began to near his lips to hers. He wanted to kiss her, to feel something honest and beautiful.

“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you telling me lies?” she whispered just before his lips could touch hers. Alistair faltered and frowned in confusion.

“What lies?” he asked.

“That I’m beautiful, fascinating, wonderful. Do you really think that so dumb I am? You are saying you have never met a woman like me. That I’m one of a kind. Why?”

“Because this is the truth.” he replied taking a step toward her, and she took one backward simultaneously, crossing her hands before her chest, embracing herself tightly and shaking her head frantically.

“Stop playing this!” She exclaimed. ”I'm nothing more than a cruel amusement to you -- something you can laugh at, thinking it's fun to make me believe I'm worth anybody's interest.”

“Why are you saying this?” he asked?

“Because _this_ is the truth.” her voice drowned into a cry. “Men like you always see the beautiful girls with fair skin and shiny hair and pretty eyes. I'm just some kind of freak, some kind of twisted curiosity for you who does not deserve any love.” He was confused. How a girl like her, who proved everything that a human could spoke about herself like this. 

“Sol-“ He reached out for her, but he turned on her heels, with her back to him.

“You should go.” Her tone was rejecting and cold. “And you should never come back. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody as they don’t need me.” Alistair’s legs rooted, it was so much bitterness, so much pain in her voice, still it was calm, flat filled with resignation.

“Go,” she ordered again. Alistair took a step forward reaching out for her in a desperate move. He couldn't… she was the only…he just couldn't.

“GO!” she yelled. “Or should I syllable the words to make you understand? _I. Don’t. Need. You._ ” It finally reached him. She saw through him. She saw how filthy and unworthy he was, rotten to the core. He was the one who wasn't worthy for her attention.

“Fine” he growled an stomped out, took his strides fast until it culminated to a run, out from the campus, he ran until there was no air in his lungs and he could just panting chokingly, reaching for his cigarette case with shaking hands, but it was empty.  He grunted and tossed it into the pubble. He needed to drink something and he needed to find a whore. He needed to do the only thing what he was good at.

_Life was full of cruel tricks._


	14. Sabotage Interuptus

The night was uncommonly dark. There were always thick rain clouds over Ferelden in springtime, hiding the stars. Except a few weeks in summer time, the sky was always dark, but that night, it was pitch black. Only a moon shone down on them, and it became strangely and ominously yellowish, enveloping the whole place into benevolent dimness.

The Docks were dark and silent. Only the poor light of the oil lamps and the distant signal of the lighthouse made the whole place brighter. The dockworkers and the sailors usually sought entertainment in this dark and desperate hour, only a few city guard patrolled in a very predictable rhythm. Solona loved the scent of it, the smell of decaying wood, rotting fish and the salt of the ocean, the feeling of freedom.

Her heart was in her throat and she tried to take her breaths as deep as she could to retain her composure. She usually worked for the Red Jennies from the safety of her laboratory, it was Evelyn and Ariris who did the field work. But for this one, calibrating the device required her expertise. So she had to move out from her sanctuary, from the protecting embrace of her experiments, numbers and calculation, and now she stood behind a warehouse, with a highly explosive device attached to her back.

She wore a plain black trousers with matching shirt, her tools attached to her belt, a pouch of smoke bombs to the other side. Her face was covered with a mask and her eyes with googles. It was designed just for her, with diopters. She had to admit that trousers were a comfortable wearing, giving her unlimited freedom to move.

They waited. Solona examined the rhythm of the patrols from the window of her laboratory, memorizing the system, making calculations, planning every single motion. And still her heart pounded like a jackhammer, she could even hear it. She did not have a weapon. It was unnecessary, considering she couldn’t use it anyway. Ariris was her cover until she set the bomb.

She heard the guards passing by, the rhythmical knocks of their boots on the wood of the piers. She looked on Ariris, who readied her rifle and when the soft noises of the patrol silenced. Solona cautiously looked out from her hiding place, looked around, scanned the perimeter and searched for the next safe place she could run. A pile of crates, just before the ship.

Solona took a short glance on Ariris. “Be careful, I'll cover you,” she whispered. Solona nodded and began to run as her weak and thin legs and the highly explosive device on her back allowed her until she reached the crates and hid behind them. She was at halfway. She saw the footbridge what led to the ship. Solona looked back on Ariris to get some reassurance and when she signaled she began to run again to the piers, to the plank, to the ship, crouched to be hidden from the potential eyes.

It was empty. Solona found it strange that they left unguarded such a valuable and dangerous shipment, but she had no time to linger on this. She put down the device and fastened it to the mainmast, just over the keel and reached for her screwdriver. Strangely her heart still pounded, but her hands were steady, not even a slightest trembling and she felt some kind of calamity, like she did some experiment or tinkered the Gryphon.

 _Ten minutes will be enough._ She registered in herself as fastened the bolt of the time structure. She listened the soothing sound of the sea as collided to the ship, her hands working fast and deliberate.

At the sound of a click of a readying gun her motion froze.

“Not even the lightest move, kid,” someone hissed and the familiar voice caused her heart skipping a beat and her muscles tensed.

 _It was Alistair._ What the hell was he doing there?

“Slowly stand up and I want to see your hands over your head.” he instructed. Solona grew taut, unsure to what to do. “MOVE!!!” he yelled and she twitched by his voice. She slowly stood up, her hands slid in the pouch attached to her belt grabbing a smoke bomb before she lift it over her head. Her eyes stuck on her screwdriver laying on the floor. Maybe if she could reach it...

“Stretch your fingers,” Alistair instructed her and she heard the clinging sound of the readying handcuffs. Solona slowly did what she was told letting the smoke bomb to fall from her hand on the floor. And in the moment it reached the ground exploded and the thick smoke spread everywhere.

“Fuck…” Alistair grunted between two coughs and Solona began to run as fast as she could to the footbridge, to the priers. “Hey, come back,” she heard and another pair of beating feet behind her. As she sprinted away beside the pile of crates, she whistled to Ariris, signaled her, not to come over her help, but to activate the device.

Her feet took the steps one after another without looking around, sprinting without aim into the labyrinth of same looking warehouses. She heard him running after him, picking up her pace, coming closer by every step.

A pause and a shot, landed just over her head.

She faltered for a moment, stared at he fresh bullet hole in the brick wall and this was enough for him to reach her. Alistair grabbed her wrist, yanking it back to him painfully and she yelped as fell back. He grabbed her another one and forced them behind her back, his another hand searching for something.

“You fucking bastard, did you think you can run away from me?” he hissed. She shifted, struggled under his grip, tried to find a purchase to get free. Her heart pounded, her breath fast and shallow and she began to feel that the primal fear floods something in her body. Something that narrowed her perception, made her hear nothing else just the pulsating blood in her ears, the red liquid running in her veins as fast as her thoughts.

He readied the handcuff and Solona without a second thought shoved her ankle into his stomach. Alistair grunted and sagged by the punch and she struck another, her heel trampled on his foot. He cried out and released her wrist.

She darted, the adrenaline brought her. She ran blindly just forward, trying to find a safe place from him. Steps behind her, picking up her pace. He was adamant, fast enough to anticipate her moves, so she sprinted, faster than she has ever in her life, jumping over pebbles and stray crates, looking right and left, searching a place to escape.

An open warehouse. She ran in through the empty hallway until a door. She tore it open and closed behind her, leaning on the surface. Her breaths erratic, chocking, her pulse rapid, her every muscle trembled.

The place was dark, only the periodic flashing of the lighthouse swept through it. As its light broke through the giant windows and made the place bright she looked around.

_No. No. NOO._

Blueprints on the wall, vials on a workbench, books on the shelves. She was in her own laboratory.

She heard the entrance slamming, steps coming forward the door, every was louder than the previous. She wheezed shallowly, took her hands before her mouth, to prevent noise and tried to think clear as the strides almost reached the door. She looked around tried to find something, anything that she could use. A stick next to her, from when she had made a prototype weapon for Evelyn. She grabbed it, stepped from the door and readied over her head to strike. The steps ceased and the handle on the door moved down. The creak of the opening door. She squeezed her hand around the piece of wood and waited…

And an explosion that shook the whole place. Ariris activated the device.

“Shit,” Alistair exclaimed and the next moment steps receded from her.

Solona began to tremble uncontrollably as the strides slowly faded away, her hands over her head squeezing the stick. Her legs sagged and the next moment she collapsed to the floor. Everything became silent, she only heard a deafening hoot in her ears and her own rapidly beating heart. The world spun around her and she thought the next moment she was going to faint.

Sounds of steps. Solona took a weak attempt to reach out for the stick and stand up but her legs did not respond to her will. It came closer and closer and she felt that something primal made the bile rise in her throat.

Ariris came.

“Sol…” she exclaimed rushing to her.

“Ari…” she heaved as pulled down the mask and vomited until nothing else came out of her but water and slime. Ariris crouched next to her and embraced her from behind, smoothing her hand on her back in circling motions.

“It’s okay…” she whispered and the tears broke out of Solona and she began to cry so hard her that her whole body shook by it.

 _She will never ever do this again._  


	15. The King's Crown

It was late in the afternoon, and Fort Drakon was busy. Fort Drakon was always busy. If it wasn’t fine gentlemen and ladies getting of the blimps from Orlais, their massive bulks shading the fort from the golden light of the setting sun, gathering clouds hanging in the sky like gold floss. Evelyn’s carriage stopped not at the ornate Drakon Terminal entrance, but around the back, at the smaller side gate of the fort that led to a courtyard. The courtyard within was busy with guards as their shift changed. Some cast a second glance at her as she alighted from the carriage, her dress elegant and covered with lace studded with pearls at her throat, the bustle in a pale baby blue colour that set off her hair and eyes. She looked up at the blimps overhead and smiled. Perhaps she needed a trip to the country. She needed to get away and into the sky…

 

Nevertheless, she held Cullen’s coat over one arm, her cane in the other as she walked into the station. She was a little shocked by the bustle. There were officers all over, donned in their black uniforms, some hurrying about, others bent over desks, filling out reports. There were people there too, lodging complaints, some yelling, others crying. It was a hot house of emotions. How did he work like this? 

 

Evelyn walked through the desks, feeling at a loss. “My lady,” said an officer at an empty table. He waved for Evelyn to walk over. Evelyn headed over. “Sargeant Blackwall at your service. I take it you have a report to lodge, my lady…” he began. 

 

“Trevelyan,” Evelyn said. “I’m here to see Captain Cullen.”

 

She was sure the hubbub around her dimmed a little as ears were peeled. Evelyn cleared her throat softly. The guard before her looked up at her over his impressive black mustache and stylishly parted beard. “You are here to see…”

 

“Captain Cullen?” Evelyn tried again. “If he’s in, that is.”

 

“Oh, of course, he should be in soon,” the officer grinned. “He’s coming in off the beat in a moment. Shift change, you see. And the matter to be discussed? I have to log it in the book, you see.”

 

“It’s private,” Evelyn smiled. “I’m sorry. Can you write ‘private’ down in your book?”

 

“Oh, for the Captain, surely.” Blackwall’s grin was salacious. Evelyn got the impression he was enjoying this. “Have a seat, Lady Trevelyan.”

 

Evelyn flashed him a smile, her dark hair framing her face as she sat down. She felt really small in front of Blackwall. Were all the guards so big? It seemed so. Blackwall stood up, smiling at her in amusement as he left her at the table. Evelyn sat with her hand on her cane, holding the coat over her knees. The other officers kept stealing glances at her, whispering. She heard Cullen’s name murmured. Evelyn wondered what the fuss was about. It wasn’t as if she were doing anything wrong.. She waited patiently, watching the comings and going as the golden light spilled in through the tall embrasure windows. 

 

She heard a familiar voice then and steeled herself. She had to be… be normal. She wasn’t on a mission anymore. She turned to see Cullen coming in the door, wearing a tattered old coat, his face in a frown as he held a folio in his hand. “--care what that tit has to say,” he was grumbling. “It’s bloody daft. Mac Tir’s furious for the leak - it’s my fault, naturally.”

 

He was followed by another guard, also in a captain’s uniform. His face was tattooed in a way common in the Free Marches. He was a long way from home. “Cullen, you can’t arrest a reporter,” he was saying as they hung up their coats. “Even if he is a tit and publishes what he likes and says what he likes. Master Tethras is pretty well known. Trust me he’d report on his own arrest with great enthusiasm.” 

 

“I know, Rylen,” Cullen sighed, “But he doesn’t know that I know, does he--” Cullen froze when he turned, his eyes falling on her. Evelyn smiled at him from across the room. 

 

“Captain Cullen!” the guard known as Blackwall called. “Lady Trevelyan has asked to speak with you.” Evelyn was sure the noise died down now. “It’s  _ private  _ matter.”

 

Cullen shot Blackwall a dark look. “Thank you Sergeant,” he grated. Evelyn saw him blushing. He was so endearing. So… everything she wasn’t expecting. “I’ll talk to you later, Rylen,” Cullen said and walked over to her. Evelyn noticed even Captain Rylen was giving her curious looks. She stood up, holding her cane. She was still so much shorter than Cullen, barely reaching his shoulders. “Lady Trevelyan,” he said, his eyes confused as he looked at her. “How can I--”

 

“You forgot your coat that night,” she said brightly as she held it up to him. The noise stilled now, every officer’s ears trained on them. Cullen was going red in the cheeks. “I… also thought perhaps we could talk.”

 

Cullen cleared his throat and took the coat from her. “Thank you, my lady,” he said and gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. “Perhaps my office?”

 

Evelyn smiled and walked ahead of him up the dim staircase to the second floor of the fort. It was only when they vanished from view that the noise below rose again. As they walked down a corridor, she heard him chuckle slightly. Evelyn turned, looking at him over her shoulder. He smiled at her and held open the lapel of his coat. In the corner, were his initials embroidered in the lining.

 

Evelyn laughed awkwardly. “The lining was… um. I fixed it since it was so worn. You must like the coat. I embroidered your initials--” She fumbled, her voice fading. 

 

“I wasn’t aware you knew my middle name,” he said as he reached a door. 

 

“I asked your fan club.”

 

“My what?” his hand stilled on the knob, his voice deadpan.

 

“Your fan club. The ladies who sigh your name as they fall asleep? I asked them what they sighed and they told me your middle name.” Her smile was bright and playful. 

 

“You’re joking.” His eyes fixed on hers as she smiled at him impishly. “You are joking!” 

 

She giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate gloved hand. Cullen blushed and opened the door, letting her into his office. Evelyn looked around at the papers piled everywhere books scattered among them. “You’re an avid reader, Captain,” she said. 

 

“Please excuse the mess,” Cullen said in embarrassment. He set his coat down on the back of his chair and moved to clear the guest chair for her, setting the stack of papers on the floor. “And… Cullen, if you please.”

 

She smiled warmly at him. “Cullen,” she said, liking the way his name felt on her tongue. It was a name that was delightful to say. “How are your wounds?” she asked, sitting down on the chair, resting her hand on her cane. 

 

Cullen looked at her wrily. “They are recovering,” he smiled. Evelyn smiled at him, pleased, knowing that she looked tiny in his chair. Sure enough, his cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat. Evelyn glanced at the folio, seeing the crest of Du Grace Shipping poking out of the top. The window spilled light over his shoulder, making his hair catch fire with the sunlight. He looked like he had a halo. Evelyn chuckled softly to herself. He looked at her curiously as he put the folio away. She said nothing, just watching him impishly. His cheeks were like a village girl’s. It was so easy to light them. He raised an eyebrow under her scrutiny. “To what do I owe the honour of your visit, Evelyn?”

 

“I was checking up on you,” she said honestly. “And returning your coat.” Her hands rubbed the hooked head of her cane. “Also… to apologise for that night.”

 

He looked at her curiously. “Apologise?”

 

She blushed and looked away. “Are your wounds painful?” she said, shying away from the topic. 

 

Cullen looked at her thoughtfully. “I can endure,” he replied. “Thank you for your concern.”

 

“The doctor I spoke of is open now,” she said. “If you’d like, I could bring you there.”

 

“You really don’t have to, they are recovering,” he smiled. Then Cullen looked at his paperwork thoughtfully. The blimps started rolling in overhead, blocking the sunlight that came through the window. “Perhaps a meal?” Cullen suggested. “There’s a diner-- but you probably don’t eat at--”

 

“I’d love to,” she smiled, and looked down, her hand had reached out and rested on his. She blushed and took it off, his fingers curling after hers almost yearningly. She looked away, adjusting her silk glove. “I mean, diners are fine. It’s been a while since I had fried bread and fried eggs and fried ham. And fried coffee. Will there be fried coffee?”

 

He laughed. “You know your diner food,” he said, standing and taking the coat. “Fried everything would be nice. Shall we? I am a little hungry.”

 

“Of course,” she said. They left the office, Evelyn aware that curious eyes were on them as they stepped out of the main doors and into Evelyn’s carriage. She chuckled seeing the faces of officers peering out the front door when he shut the carriage door behind him. “Curious officers,” she teased. “I take it they don’t often see you getting into a lady’s carriage?”

 

Cullen was blushing and said nothing. The carriage moved off and they spoke of trivial things, simple things, thing that had nothing to do with red lyrium or the like. He pointed out places on Drakon’s Rise and seemed to enjoy telling her the history of the city. Evelyn had heard it all from her tutor Irving as a child, but hearing it from Cullen made history much more interesting. Evelyn got the impression he didn’t get out much. That was probably the case. 

 

They alighted at a diner that Cullen said he often ate at. She sent the carriage away, the city had few terrors for her. It looked like places at Evelyn had eaten at before, usually on her Red Jenny jobs, but she never called it a diner. The place was called the King’s Crown, though there was nothing regal about it. “Is this a diner? Really?” She asked Cullen. 

 

Cullen smiled weakly. “Well, they serve food. I used the term loosely. But they do serve food.”

 

She laughed. “Right! I’m the Empress of Orlais. This is a tavern, Cullen. A dive bar.”

 

“The food really is good, I promise,” he said earnestly. “I wanted you to try it. And dive bar sounds.. Well… seedy.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Seedy?” She said. Maker, he sounded like an old woman. 

 

“Ladies shouldn’t be in dive bars,” he said simply. 

 

“So it’s a diner not a dive bar because I’m a lady? Unless I’m not a lady, then it’s back to a dive bar?” 

 

He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning uncertainly. “Pardon?”

 

She laughed and hooked her arm around his. “Nevermind, Cullen. Let’s eat at your diner.” The King’s Crown itself was built in a basement below street level, small windows let in the dying light through grimy glass, illuminating the grimy tables and worn wooden floors. There was the smell of grease in the air in addition to the pervading scent of booze and beer. Evelyn was hungry. She saw Cullen looking at her uncertainly. “Are you comfortable?” he asked worriedly. 

 

“Of course! It’s a lovely diner.” Evelyn piped up. 

 

“Now you’re rubbing it in.”

 

“Yes, I am. I’ll find a table. Order whatever you’re getting for me. I’m starving. If you’re buying drinks, I’ll have a brandy.”

 

Cullen looked at her with a slightly surprised glance, but smiled and walked to the counter. Evelyn headed to a booth and sat herself down, looking around. If the food was good, she would have to come back on her own. She eyed him as he ordered their meals from the counter, his shoulders were broad, protective. There was sense about him that she could sink into him and… She pulled her mind away from the thought and shook her head. She thought of him more than she was willing to accept, as it was. She settled down on her chair and smoothed out her skirts until a shadow fell over her. 

 

It was beginning to swelter outside. At the counter, as he ordered their food and rinks, Cullen undid his coat and draped it over his arm. The new lining was far better than his old linen one. He turned from the counter. He wasn’t expecting such kindness from her. He stopped when he saw the hulking man leaning over a booth table, his hands on the table, the blue of Evelyn’s skirts visible from behind his legs. Cullen’s jaw tensed, feeling the bile rising as he strode over, his coat flaring as he moved. His hand landed on the man’s shoulder, his expression dark. Then he froze. The man turned to him with a pale and terrified glare, his face slick with sweat. Cullen looked down. “Maker--” he exclaimed, pulling his hand from the man’s shoulder. 

 

Evelyn’s cane head was hooked at the man’s crotch, the beak of the hook terrifyingly pointed. She held the cane idly, her head resting on her other hand. “Cullen, have you met Bogsy?” she smiled warmly. “He was just leaving. Weren’t you, Bogsy?”

 

Bogsy said nothing, only tiptoeing higher. Evelyn shot him a glance and moved her cane away, the heavy stick twirling in her hand as if it were paper. She set it down next to her. The man known as Bogsy whimpered and walked away from her quickly. Cullen looked at her, impressed. “Would you really have…”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Evelyn laughed. “I would have kicked him.”

 

“Oh.” He sat down opposite her. 

 

“I have steel caps in my shoes,” she went on.

 

Cullen stared at her. “Do you really?”

 

“It’s in the toes. Thanks to a lifetime of ballet, I can kick like a mule. He might have prefered the cane head.”

 

Cullen chuckled a little nervously as he draped his coat over the arm of his chair. “That’s… that’s actually… very wrong - especially for a man.”

 

“I wouldn’t want you to arrest me,” she smiled impishly. “Taking me away in cuffs? Maker forbid!” 

 

Cullen’s laugh was a little more brittle, a little more nervously hesitant. “Perhaps… not on the first few dates,” he said and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to say anything wrong, anything that would make her… leave. She was a strange and curious thing, and he wanted to know more. Not that he even had a chance, but perhaps just for a while, it was nice to imagine and enjoy the company of a strangely dichotomous woman. She was laughing at his words, her laughter like falling sunshine, but Cullen remembered the frightened tremble of her hands. The brighter the sunshine, the darker the shadows. And he knew all about shadows. It was lonely. 

 

He tilted his head at her curiously as their brandy was served. He passed her the cleaner looking cup and filled it with brandy from the cloudy decanter. “Swordsmanship, ballet, sewing. Your education certainly was--”

 

“Frivolous.” She sighed, resting her head in her hands as she took the glass of brandy. “Frivolous and silly. I should have studied harder and learned important things. Done something good for the world. Now, I work with what I have.”

 

“Are you doing that?” He asked curiously, filling his own glass.

 

“I’m trying. It’s hard, but I’m trying. I hope I do well.” 

 

“As I’ve commented before, you are a strange woman indeed.” 

 

“Am I really?” Evelyn asked, her blue eyes boring into him. 

 

“Really.”

 

She paused, looking at him thoughtfully. “In a good way?”

 

He smiled at her. “In a very good way.”

 

+++++


	16. Night Showers

If Cullen thought Evelyn was a lady before, he was extremely doubtful about that now. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or angry. It wasn’t her insistence that he dance, which he could do, just not willingly. Not even on three bottles of brandy. But Maker help him, he did it. The remigold had never been more enjoyable than watching her dance as she held her skirts up, It also probably wasn’t her standing on the bar to conduct the singing - that was actually pretty hilarious. It was probably the barfight. She had three men on the ground and a foot on the ringleader’s crotch before he could even stand up. He swept her out of the bar pretty quickly then. 

 

Solas was right. She wasn’t what she seemed. Everything about her intrigued him. Including the strange sense of… affinity he could not shake off nor properly explain. She followed him good naturedly, cheerful and bright from the drink, her laugh louder than ever. 

 

“Keep it down!” Cullen laughed, her mirth contagious. They were walking through the Borroughs, heading back to Drakon’s Rise, and her stately home. He wasn’t holding her, but keeping a close watch in case she stumbled, which she wasn’t really doing at all. He held his coat in his hand, the weather sweltering and the smell of rain strong in the air. And here he was with Evelyn Trevelyan, most eligible bachelorette in the city, flower of the social circles, patron of sciences and also Remigold dancer, alehouse orchestra conductor and bar fighter. Maybe bringing her to the dive bar wasn’t a good idea. It was a dive bar, who was he kidding. She was drunk in his company. He was drunk too, but not so far gone that he forgot his manners. 

 

She snorted, holding her cane as she walked. “Tell it again!” she demanded. 

 

“I’ve told the naked recruit story three times already,” he laughed. 

 

“In his knickers!” She snorted the punchline again and laughed boisterously, taking his shoulder in her hand. “Maker’s balls, Cullen - that’s not fair. I don’t have any crazy stories like that.”

 

“I’m sure you do,” he said, taking her weight as she leaned on him. 

 

“Oh yes - let me share one! Last Salon, Lady Leandra wore peach. Peach! A peach tea dress! Oh, scandal! We talked about it all week behind our powdered fans.” 

 

Cullen stared at her as they walked, an incredulous look on his face. “Peach?”

 

“It was summer! Bold colours!” 

 

“Wow.”

 

Evelyn snorted in disgust. “I know. Ghastly. Peach.”

 

Thunder rolled overhead. “Maker’s breath,” Cullen looked up.

 

“Ah fuck, I’m in silk!” Evelyn swore, looking up at the sky. Heavy raindrops began to fall around them. 

 

“Language,” Cullen muttered automatically as he draped his coat around her shoulders, her small frame barely holding the cloth on. Maker, he was sounding like his mother. He took her hand in his and the cane in the other.

 

She clutched at the neck of the coat., looking up at him with her wide eyes. “Did you just--” she breathed. The rain began to fall in earnest. 

 

They ran, their feet kicking up water in the cobbles as they dashed through the raindrops that pelted down from the stormy sky. They were impossibly far from Drakon’s Rise. “We need a carriage!” Cullen said over the thunder and lightning and the roar of the rain. He shielded his eyes with the hand that held her cane. “Why did you send yours away?”

 

He heard her laughing brightly. Her hand in his, she was bent over and laughing, her hair soaked from the rain, the feather in her hat hanging down her back. “But this is wonderful!” She chirped brightly. “I’m all wet!” 

 

Cullen swallowed the image that sprang to his mind and was suddenly glad for the cold shower. “Maker!” He sighed wearily, which only made her giggle even more. The street they were on was long and stretched uphill, lined on both sides with the Borrough houses, standing tall and narrow against each other. He ran across the street to the nearest doorway and pulled her under the shade of its porch. She was still giggling as overhead, thunder rolled, lightning catching the clouds alight. “Shh!” He hissed, unable to keep from grinning. “You’re going to wake people up!” 

 

She covered her mouth with her gloved hand, the cloth of her sleeves and skirts soaked through. The coat began to slip from her shoulders. He reached out to hold it closed as the rain pelted against them, borne by the winds. He hooked her cane on the crook of his elbow and stood her in the corner of the porch, between door and wall, his back to the wind and rain. He shook his head as she giggled into her hand. “Do you always laugh like his when you’re drunk?” He asked. 

 

She looked up with those huge eyes, and nodded. Cullen rolled his eyes and smirked slightly at her. “You are impossible, Evelyn,” he said, his skin shivering a little from the cold and wind, his uniform sodden and clinging to his body. But her laughter stopped as she drew breaths to calm herself. He looked over his shoulder at the rain, his hand still holding the coat closed around her shoulders. “Hopefully this blows over quick--” He stopped when her finger touched his face, the tip drawing over the scar on his lip. He gave her a wry little half smile. 

 

“What’s this story?” She asked quietly.

 

He wrapped his hand around hers as it caressed his scar. “An old mission,” he said simply. “It went wrong. I go this scar from it.” She did not need to know more. She did not need to know how he had come undone at the hands of others. 

 

“I notice you only smile with that side of your face,” she said, her fingers entwining with his. “Why is that?”

 

“Habit?”

 

She raised an eyebrow, her look arch as she leaned against the wall. “Or you know that scar makes you look unbearably attractive, so you deliberately smile to the right.”

 

Cullen snorted and pursed his lips, determined not to smile. “I do not,” he said evenly. 

 

“Yes you do,” she hissed. “You do it all the time on purpose, I’m sure of it!” 

 

“I do not!” He looked down at that exagerated little smug pout of hers and fought the urge to smile and failed. 

 

“Smile, Cullen.”

 

He pursed his lips even more. “No,” he said. 

 

“Do the sexy smile!”

 

He felt his cheeks heat up, and he covered his mouth, torn between amusement and self-conciousness and effervescent pleasure that she said it was… attractive. “Maker, stop!” He said from behind his hand.

 

“No! Do the sexy smile!” 

 

“I can’t, you’re making it so… awkward!” 

 

Thunder rolled as she giggled once more and reached up to pull his hand away from his mouth. She looked at him with an odd softness in her eyes. “You should smile more often,” she said and reached up to his rain-wet brow, her fingers running along his skin, smoothing the habitual furrow of his brow. “Your troubles have marked you.” 

 

“It happens,” he murmured, her fingers hot against his shivering skin. “How do you keep smiling?”

 

Something in her eyes changed, shrank away from the thought. She still smiled, however. “Masks,” she said, her voice tittering lightly, her fingers curling over his. “Masks you never take off. The difference between you and I is that my mask smiles.”

 

She lowered her gaze and shivered under the coat as the wind howled into the porch. Cullen stepped closer to her, to shield her from the wind. He couldn’t see her face, she had gone quiet. The furrow in his brow that she had so gently soothed away just now returned as he looked down at her in concern. “Evie,” he murmured. 

 

“Damn it, Cullen,” she chuckled a little harshly, keeping her eyes averted. “You need to stop doing things that make me keep thinking about you.”

 

Cullen felt his stomach twisting. What was she saying? It would never work, the thought screamed in his head.

 

“Maybe,” she replied and he swallowed the panic when he realized he had vocalised his thoughts aloud. She turned her eyes up to him then, brilliant blue in the shadows of the storm. “But that’s not going to make me stop thinking about you.”

 

Cullen’s heart beat quickened as he looked at her. Curiosity. Curiosity was a dangerous thing. Curiosity stoked the flames of desire, and they burned hotter at the thought of forbidden fruit. But she was… young. Far younger than he was. She sighed heavily. “Ugh, I’m being silly,” she leaned back against the wall, her head against the plaster, a look of exasperation on her face. 

 

“No!” The word tumbled from his lips. “You’re not! I do!”

 

She blinked at him. What in the Maker’s name had he just said? Cullen tried to get his mouth and brain up to speed. “I mean - I do t-think of you and… and what I might do in this sort of situation..”

 

A part of him groaned at his own words. He sounded like an idiot. Why wasn’t it coming out right? She was… his throat tightened at the thought of her… if this was a game - he prayed it wasn’t. Was she even serious? This couldn’t be real. What was he even trying to say to her? He rubbed his forehead with his finger and thumb. “Maker’s breath,” he sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

She bit her lip. “What would you do?” She asked. 

 

He looked at her over his hand. He knew what he wanted to do - which was stupid and primal and yet… and yet fueled by if not intrigue, then by… Andraste he didn’t even know. All he knew was her tremble, her brief glimpse of fear in her eyes. He sighed. “You offered it to me at the sword club,” he murmured. “But it wasn’t what you wanted, not really.”

 

Her eyes widened, a slow tinge coming to her pale cheeks. She bit her lip and glanced away, seeming to curl defensively in his coat. “You surprised me,” she admitted. 

 

“As did you.”

 

“I thought you wouldn’t say yes.”

 

“I thought you wanted me to.”

 

Her gaze lanced through him and Cullen stopped his flinch just in time, as if he were a schoolboy caught with his hand in his trousers. “I-I mean-- It was stupid, I don’t know what I was thinking, I should have known you were joking--”

 

“I did.” Her voice halted his. 

 

He stilled, rain chilling his back, his body shivering slightly in the cold. His eyes fell to her lips when she spoke again. “What stopped you?” She asked. 

 

He shut his eyes and tried to pull himself together. He swallowed. “You were shaking,” he said softly. He sighed, finally hearing the words fall into place to describe the affinity he felt with her. He was not alone in suffering at the hands of others, he suspected. “I didn’t mean to… scare you, to make you feel like I was forcing myself where I wasn’t wanted.”

 

Her hands vanished under the coat as she held her arms. “What if it was wanted?” She asked, her breath hot against his chest. She looked up at him. “Would you have kissed me just to get me to answer you?”

 

Cullen frowned, turning the question over in his mind. He felt a little ashamed of himself then. “No, I would have… done it because I wanted to,” he admitted, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. He ran his hand through his soaked hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Andraste, what must you think of me--”

 

“May I?” She said suddenly. 

 

“What?” Cullen lowered his arm. 

 

She straightened up from leaning against the wall, their bodies coming closer. She looked at him with a strange intensity, as if facing a foe. He felt her shoulders tremble slightly inside his coat as he held it clasped at the neck. “May I kiss you, Cullen?” Her words ceased all thought in his head. “Just… just to try.”

 

His heartbeat echoed in his ears, his body aflame despite the chilling rain. “If… if that is what you want,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse to him.

 

She locked her gaze on his. “I think it is,” she whispered. Her fingers reached up to touch his cheeks, wet gloves running over the stubble of his chin. She tiptoed, Cullen leaned down as she drew him in, her head tilted back, lips raised to his. Her eyes fluttered shut.

 

She brushed his lips gently with hers, the kiss as light as a raindrop. Cullen shut his eyes as she… sampled his lips. His heart was hammering his chest now, his whole mind fixated on her fingertips, her lips against his. As she pulled away, Cullen realized his was chasing her with his lips. He looked at her through hooded eyes and saw the fleeting sense of confusion in her face. She didn’t want this. Or she was troubled by this. What happened to her? He stood waiting with her hands on his cheeks, letting her work through… whatever it was she was thinking of. “That was nice,” she said, her voice tight.

 

Cullen felt his heart crumple a little inside. “Oh,” he said. “Right.” She didn’t like-- Maker he was stupid to go along with this, of course this was how it would end up!

 

“What now?” She asked.

 

He frowned in confusion, staring at her. Then he sighed and held her hand that touched his cheek. “Now?” He said. “That’s… up to you.”

 

“Nothing…” she whispered, her eyes wide, hints of questioning surprise tugging at the edge of her voice. 

 

Cullen winced inside as he moved to straighten up. Nothing. Of course. Stupid of him to--

 

Her hands wrapped around his neck as the wind swept the heavy raindrops against their bodies. Evelyn’s lips locked on Cullen’s, the kiss fervent, passionate, full of the fire he knew her to have. They part slightly to catch a breath. With a sigh, she kissed him again. Cullen responded, their tongues dancing as their rain-wet lips met. His mind caught up with current events then, and he leaned his hands on the wall behind her, the coat slipping from her shoulders as he let go and falling into a dark heap on the ground. He didn’t want to push for anything, his hands on the wall offered some measure of control. When she pulled back, Cullen was breathless, the pressure of her lips still resonating from his, the ghost of her tongue lingering against his own. He opened his eyes, full of surprise and desire as he leaned on the wall, hands on the wall on both sides of her body. She was shivering in the cold now, her silks darkening as the rain was swept against them. 

 

She smiled up at him, her hands still touching his face lightly. “That was not… that was…” she mumbled, her words tumbling over each other. “That was good. It was - it was not the same, it was… better!”

 

Cullen stared at her, utterly confused and more than a little self-concious. “Better than the first time or…”

 

She laughed. “Better than I ever imagined,” she whispered girlishly.

 

Cullen’s face lit up in a blush. She always - the things she said found their way into his switches and turned them. “Oh,” he smiled, his scar moving as he lowered his arms. “Good.”

 

“It was,” she chuckled, her laugh a little brittle. She stepped back and touched his face with a strange tenderness. “If I don’t die from a fever after tonight, or… some other heat, perhaps we can do this again?”

 

“Do… what?” Please say kiss, Cullen thought.

 

She giggled, laying a hand affectionately on his arm. “All of this. Maybe next time you’ll join me in the bar fight.”

 

“I am the Captain of the City Guard!” Cullen protested. 

 

“That’s why we’re sure to kick all their balls!” She said with fire in her voice. 

 

“I don’t think you understand what I meant!” 

 

She laughed boisterously at that, then the porch light turned on spilling light around them. Cullen picked up his coat. “This is where we leave,” he said urgently. How loud had they been?

 

“We don’t let them catch us kissing?” Heavy footsteps were coming down the stairs from inside the house. 

 

“Evelyn!” 

 

She laughed and took his hand and her cane, and together they ran out of the halo of light and into the glittering rain. 


	17. Two Are Missing

Her hands trembled as she tried to draw a straight line on the blueprint. The pencil did not follow the precise guide of the ruler and always went astray. Millions of thoughts flashed through her mind she relived every single moment, feeling the bile rise in her throat again and her heart pounded like a jackhammer. Her vision blurred, and the pencil slid across the paper, ruining her all work. With a grunt she jumped from the drawing table and tore the blueprint to shreds.

Ariris stood up from the chair, took her book down on the workbench and went to Solona, taking her hand gently, soothingly on her shoulder, feeling her every little tremor.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice filled with honest worry.

Solona’s eyes wandered to her tool belt on the workbench. “Two are missing,” she muttered.

Ariris frowned, thinking it’s some kind of aftershock of her. Solona cried through the night, she threw out everything that she tried to force down her throat to calm her nerves and frantically continued to chant _‘never again’_. She sat on the floor in Ariris’ arms until the morning reached them and when she finally calmed down she refused to sleep.  She sat at her drawing desk to her numbers and calculations, her simple straight lines.

“Would you like some tea to calm your nerves?” Ariris inquired, circling her hand on Solona’s back. She nodded. Ariris went to the Bunsen lighter and took a pot of water over it. Solona turned to the window which faced to the Docks watched the busy work of the City Guards and the Yard, the still puffing smoke, sniffed the stink of burned wood and red lyrium, felt it singing to her and embraced herself. _Two are missing._

“I haven’t seen that rose before. You aren't a girl who fusses with flowers,” Ariris threw jauntily. How could she be so calm? Like nothing happened, like it was just a usual morning. She couldn't decide if it calmed her or made more anxious.

“It was a gift. From... Alistair,” she replied, her voice trailing off. What was he doing there? He was so violent with her. Of course her rational side knew he couldn’t know who she was but still. That brutal move how he yanked her, the bullet he shot on her. Her wrist still rankled, pulsated painfully and she could only hope it wouldn't leave a bruise behind. Images swished before her eyes of a running girl in a dark alley as and she deepened her nails more into her flesh, feeling as the skin under it became angry red... but she just dug in deeper until she was sure her blood would be shed.

“So now it’s Alistair?” Ariris tweeted. “What a gallant gesture of him.” Solona heard something in her silky voice, some spice what she knew too well. It was her weapon and shield from what a detective stripped her making her more miserable than she already was.

“What do you mean?” She asked turning to her. Ariris poured the tea and brought for her.

“Nothing. He often comes to the brothel for information. He is always…” she hesitated for a moment “…bland.”

“I suppose he is friendly with everybody, especially with ladies.” Solona stated bitterly as sipped from the cup. It was chamomile tea and as it spread in her she felt her nerves calming down and her trembling ease and other things became clearer.

“He is.” Ariris replied. “But he has certainly never given a rose to anyone,” she said carefully, with a hint of a smile. Solona hummed and bit her lower lip.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked. Solona turned away from her to not show as the heat flushes her cheeks and stared the docks again and the working policemen at the crime scene.

“Does it matter?” she asked. She heard the steps behind her, and Ariris’s gentle hand landing on her shoulder. As her nerves calmed down, her touch made her more uncomfortable. She never liked to be touched by them, especially after...

 _They don’t need you. Nobody needs you. Nobody!_  

After all these years these words echoed in her like she heard them just yesterday crawling under her skin, piercing.

“Sol…” Ariris’ cadence was filled with uncertainty and hesitation. “Officer Theirin is-”

The door slammed. They both turn to it and saw Evelyn coming in, a coat rested on her forearm. Solona saw the insignia of the city guards on it recognizing instantly to whom it belonged. It was so easier to disapprove Evelyn’s dangerous game than her own. It was easier to analyze others than herself. Emotions were complicated. Numbers, observation, calculations, these were simple and comfortable.

“The explosion was huge.” Evelyn stated as took the coat down neatly on the chair where Ariris sat previously. “I could even feel it at the sword club.”

“The mission was… problematic. Officer Theirin showed up.” Ariris’ comment was flat, but she touched Solona’s back. Solona winced, so her hand withdrew.

“What was he doing there?” Evelyn inquired. Solona shook her head frantically.

“I-I don’t know, he shouldn’t be there. The smuggling case was taken away from him. He shouldn’t be there.” She muttered, her speech rapid and anxious.

“You should ask him why next time you meet.” Evelyn commented carelessly.

“And what am I supposed to ask from him?” Solona burst out. “That I was blowing out a shipment of highly illegal drug and you were there, why? Brilliant idea, Evie.” And she smashed the tea cup in her hand to the wall, watching the remained liquid in it trickling down the wall. Ariris and Evelyn watched the whole scene with stillness, a quiet observation. Solona never had tantrums. She had her sarcastic comments, sometimes she even shouted with them, but she was always so considerate even when they were children.

Solona went to her stool sat down and closed her head between her hands and rubbed her temple. “I lost two of my screwdrivers,” she said. “One blew up with the ship. One was lost later, during the chase I think." She began to cry again. "I screwed it up!” Fat tears fall from her eyes, she wiped them away desperately, she tried to regain her composure, but for the first time in her life he couldn’t command herself. It shook her body uncontrollably for countless time since the last night.

Evelyn crouched to her handing a silk handkerchief to dry up her tears. “It was just a screwdriver, Sol.” It was such gentleness in her voice as she swept her tear soaked locks from her face and took her glass to clean it for her. They were almost never intimate the way Evelyn was with Ariris. She could hardly recall any occasion when they comforted each other, maybe only one. And now as she tried to calm her down with almost sisterly care, something broke in her and strangely flooded her with tranquility.

“It’s an _evidence_ , Evie,” she replied as took her glasses back from Evelyn. “Evidence that can lead them to us!”

“There are thousands of the same screwdrivers, Sol.” Evelyn tried to reassure her.

“It was a mistake to bring you to the field,” Ariris stated as crouched down to her too. It wasn’t blame or a reprimand, it was just something true, and true concern. “It took so much of you.”

“I thought I could be like you.” Solona heaved as tried to coop the renewed urge of cry. “I thought I can jump on rooftops and fight with bad guys.”

“You are a brilliant engineer, Sol, who makes inventions that shake the world.” Evelyn smoothed her gloved hand on her arm. “We can’t build aircrafts or hidden swords... we can't figure out anything about red lyrium.” Evelyn looked to Ariris, hoping that comment hadn't cut her. 

“I was needed. You couldn’t have calibrated the device. And I screwed it up.” She began to cry again.

“Sol, you did what you had to, the best thing you could do. Missions can go wrong.” Ariris chimed in. “Field work is not suiting to you, that’s all.”

“Maybe you should teach us how to do these things, so we could do this without you next time.” Evelyn suggested and Solona burst out in a laughter what drowned into a cry.

“No offense, Evie, but studying was never your strength.” Evelyn stood up from her and went to her workbench, opened her tool box and took out a wrench.

“Because I never had the perfect teacher.” Solona looked up at Evelyn and saw something in her what not for a long time. She meant her words. She really wanted to learn from her. Her mouth turned to a faint smile as stood up and took the instrument away from Evelyn. She giggled as Solona snatched the wrench from her hand and took it back to the toolbox. "Next, Ariris and I will raid the stash. You stay back this time. Think of something to start me on... but make sure it's easy."

“How many times I have to tell you? Don’t touch anything.” Her voice was genuine, filled with playfulness, allowing herself a moment the illusion that she mattered.


	18. First Blood

Evelyn had been thinking about Cullen for days. It was abominable the way the man snaked into her thoughts, the way he intruded upon her tasks. At first she had indulged her thoughts of him, believing that she was studying an enemy, someone they needed, someone they had to manipulate. But since the sword club, she had him in her thoughts. Not his history or personality or… well, there was that. His odd scar, the missing gaps in his files she had obtained, the way he chuckled in that uncouth but adorable little snort that would not pass in a tea room.

Then there were other thoughts. Thoughts of his muscles, like ropes under his skin... undulating when he moved, like writing bodies under sheets. His smell, musk and soap and elderberry and beeswax for his hair - probably the most expensive thing he had on him. As she had spent afternoons sewing his initials in his coat lining, the smell of him had washed over her, like a comforting embrace. These thoughts warmed her from within, set fire to her loins, made her tremble in a good way…

Her sword came down on the practice dummy hard, leaving a dent in the hard wood. Evelyn swore and stepped back, sweating in the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows of the sword club training room. Her vest and loose shirt clung to her sweaty skin. She was breathing hard, venting her frustrations on the dummy. Her sword clanged down again as she took another swing and stepped back, working on her footing.

And Ari and Sol… she had not seen them in almost a fortnight now. Not like they came to look for her. That stung. That stung and confused her. Why didn’t they care for her? And Sol… Sol… how could she have said that about her? Why was Cullen the only person who made her feel… if not happy, then content? Why was she manipulating him for the Red Jennies when all they did was judge her to be the frivolous little fool? Even the spread of the red lyrium seemed to have faded since the sabotage… Was that over? Were the Jennies needed?

She shut her eyes. She didn’t want to do this anymore… It was too big for three people. All they ever wanted to do was protect Ari from bastard drugged up clients, but at what cost? This was tearing them apart. Maybe they should be torn apart. Was there anything among her, Ari and Solona to bind them to begin with? She thought there was love. Perhaps she was wrong...

She turned on instinct, her blade flashing as it swung and struck the raised sword behind her. She looked up into gray eyes and silver hair, a smirk that closed in on her. “Alexiu-” she exclaimed, but her voice stilled when he wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her full against his slender, sinewy form, his lips locking on hers.

Evelyn lowered her sword, her hands trembling as she froze in his arms. The thought of honeyed eyes confused and pleased, that scar--

Evelyn set her hand on Alexius’s shoulder and pushed him off her lips, anger and fear twisting inside her.

“Oh?” Alexius smirked. “I thought you would have missed me. Don’t worry, no one’s around to see us…” He took the sword from her hand and dropped it on the floor. The metal clanged on the wooden floor.

Evelyn held him off, trying to swallow the fear. He lifted her off the ground entirely, holding her against him. “Trembling with excitement, my little Evelyn? I know you always do...” He purred, one hand settling on her bottom, squeezing it through her pants. She felt something wet on her neck and buried her head in his shoulder.

Evelyn bit her lip. If felt nothing like this… with Cullen. Her breath hissed between her teeth and she pushed herself off him. She bent to pick up her sword the instant her boots touched the floor. She glared at him, her eyes flashing like the blade in her hand. “Don’t do that, Alexius,” she hissed.

A fleeting look of surprise crossed Alexius’s face, but then his smirk settled back once more. “This is new,” he smirked, crossing his arms. “You’ve never complained all the other times we’ve… bonded.”

Her grip on her sword tightened. “That does not mean I liked it,” she growled.

He raised one exquisite eyebrow. “Oh Evie…” he chuckled as he stepped closer to her. Evelyn stood rooted, fighting down the fear. The way he walked, predatory, her mind saw blue eyes instead of green. She bit her lip. “I have been very gentlemanly to you as we’ve played… I have brought you pleasure in return for the pleasure you give me, have I not?”

He looked down at her body brazenly. His hand cupped her breast through her shirt, squeezing it painfully. “Remember, Evie, once we’re married, you don’t have to like it. Remember who you belong to.”

Something flared inside her then, her sword snaking out. Alexius cried out as he staggered back, holding his arm, hot blood oozing from under his fingers.

Evelyn stepped back, the tip of her sword crimson with blood, her breathing ragged. What had she done? What had she done?!

“You bitch!” Alexius snarled, striding toward her.

Evelyn’s blade extended to his neck. “Don’t,” she hissed, her eyes wide with fear, but her sword steady. “Maker help me, Alexius, I will hurt you! I never liked your ‘play time’. You are a boar! If my father heard about this…”

Alexius’s eyes narrowed, as cold and gray as steel. “You are my wife!”

“Not yet!” Evelyn cried, feeling the rage bubble forth over her fear. Why had she taken so long to do this? Why had she taken so long to see that this was not normal? She snarled. “Maybe not ever.”

He glared at her, seething with his own tightly controlled rage. Then he stepped back and bowed. “As you wish, my love,” he purred. “Maybe you should calm down from whatever upsets you. Speak to me when you’re ready.”

He had manners but no respect… Cullen snorted like a village boy, but Maker, he was the most respectful person she’d ever met. Stupid Evelyn for taking so long to see…

“Touch me again, Alexius,” she growled, her voice far more steady this time. “And I promise you, I will staple your dick to a chair.”

He did not come after her when she turned from him and stormed off, her body quivering with anger. This was foolish! Foolish! Why was she enduring that bastard? She dropped the sword only at the front door of the club, when she grabbed her coat and pulled it on over her vest and breeches. Her coachman straightened up at the sight of her.

"So soon, mistress?” He asked as she strode over.

“I’ve had enough training for the day,” Evelyn said, opening the door and climbing in herself. “Take me home.”


	19. Give Me Wings

_Evelyn visited Solona’s home that day. It was uncommon, they usually were at the Trevelyan Estate, but since Ariris has left, she felt it agonizingly huge and empty. Solona became a rare guest, she buried in her studies. Like Ariris was the glue in their friendship and now everything was falling into tiny pieces._

_Their house was a simple, middle-class home. No unnecessary frippery, everything clean and simple. In some way Evelyn envied this life. The coziness of the family, where everybody cared for each other. Her father was always there for Solona. She often felt jealousy when he called her ’his little Dove’ with such tenderness in his voice, while her father compensated his continuous absence with expensive gifts. She had everything except anything that really mattered._

_As she took the steps on the wooden steps to the covered porch she heard the muffled still intimate sounded laughs, the voices of a happy family. She wondered how life would be different if she had been raised like this. Maybe she would ready to go to university like Solona now. Maybe she would have learnt something useful not just looking pretty and act like a proper lady. Maybe her father wouldn’t have determined her whole life and she would have a chance to choose differently._

_She knocked on the oak tree door with the rusty looking knocker and soon the door was opened. A gentle old lady opened the door with a soft smile on her face, her eyes filled with tenderness._

_“Evelyn, my dear,” she greeted her kindly, her voice silky and pleasant. “What a surprise. Come in.”_

_“Thank you Wynne, but I only came to Sol. If she could come out to talk…” she wriggled her hands. This kind of gentleness was uncommon for her and made her uncomfortable._

_“Ohh, don’t be absurd, my child. Come in,” and she ushered her in, taking her hands on Evelyn’s back. “We were about having tea. Come, join us.”_

_The house seemed as cozy inside as outside. The small hall with mauve walls, a bit seedy looking rugs and furniture, the walls were covered with shelves full with books what gave the place some frowzy scent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the smell of a real home._

_“Come, Evelyn, my dear, sit down here.” Wynne offered a place on the old couch for her._

_“Thank you Wynne, but I really don’t want to barge into your afternoon tea.” She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling herself like she broke into somewhere peaceful where she had no real place and just some divine luck made her to be part of it._

_“Ohh, don’t be ridiculous. You are always a welcomed guest here.” The old lady smiled reassuringly and gently patted her shoulder, almost with motherly care._

_Sound of patters from the stairs._

_“You flooded my room with foam,” Anders sulked as he came down._

_“You stole my calipers,” Solona riposted. “Why do you even need calipers? You study anatomy.”_

_“Because I need it, okay?”_

_“Then you should have asked me before broke into my room,” she disgruntled as they reached the living room._

_She looked different. Evelyn has never seen her with loose hair. She always wore it in bun like the grown-up and serious ladies. But now as the unruly red locks gently fell on her shoulder, framing her freckled face, it gave her some innocent appearance. She always seemed older than her age, but this tiny change made look young and bright._

_“Ohh my children, they are fighting all the time,” Wynne chuckled as Anders and Solona reached the hall. But there was nothing scolding, nothing reproachful was in her voice, just motherly gentleness._

_“Mom, Sol flooded my room with foam,” Anders complained like he was little sulky boy, not a serious medical student of the University of Denerim._

_Wynne released a sigh. “Irving, your daughter flooded Anders’s room with foam… again,” she cried out._

_“Ohh, so when she does something she is my daughter,” the reply arrived and soon an elder man appeared with long and thick beard. “What did you mix this time, my Dove?” his voice wasn’t scolding just soft and paternal._

_“Sodium carbonate and dihydrogen monoxide.” she answered proudly._

_“WHAT???” Anders exclaimed._

_“Washing soda and water.” Solona snapped. “And I did you a favor. Your room looked like a piggery. And smelled like that,” Evelyn felt herself like she was in an absurd and yet so adorable scene, that she could just observe. Solona was so different, so lively, glimmering amid her family._

_And Evelyn envied her. She had no siblings, no real parents, just piles of empty gifts that meant nothing. A new delicate dress, a new jewelry, a new curiosity, but never that she really needed. They were nowhere when they were needed or when something important happened with her. They weren’t there when she began to walk, when she spelled her first words. Her mother was in Orlais attending at the Empress’ birthday ball when she blossomed for the first time. She would bet her life on that when Solona became a woman Wynne gently explained her everything._

_What she had were indifferent and abusing nurses. She had that one particular. She remembered that when those rare times her mother visited her the nurse always stung her skin to make her cry painfully and her mother always handled back after a few rocking which was supposed to calm her down._

_“Solona, Anders!” Wynne rebuked them. “We have a guest and you are acting like five-year-olds. What Evelyn will think of us,” and she beckoned to her who still sat on the old couch uncomfortably, wriggling her hands on her lap._

_“Evie!” Solona exclaimed. And her voice was genuine, joyful. “I haven’t noticed you, I’m sorry.”_

_“No offense taken,” Evelyn giggled. “Actually I found the whole scene adorable.”_

_"You are just polite Evelyn, my dear," the whistling sound of the boiling water broke from the kitchen. "Solona, help me with the tea," Wynne ordered._

_The tea and the biscuit were pleasant, and Evelyn found herself more and more comfortable. Like just for a little time she was part of this sanctuary, where a father told stories, gave precious lessons, a mother thoughtfully poured the tea, and put biscuits on the small porcelain plate telling she should eat more. And Solona, her honest laughs on her father’s jokes, the enthusiasm as she spoke about her new experiments. Like she stepped into a different world when she entered that door. A world she wanted to be part of._

_Solona and Evelyn after tea went to her room. It was maybe half of Evelyn’s room, it was maybe smaller than Ariris’ was, but every bit of it was identical, screamed it belonged to her. The books about physics and chemistry on the bookshelves, the vials in neat rows in their wooden cases, the blueprints, pencils and rulers on desk. Everything was her._

_“Is there any news from the university?” Evelyn asked. Solona with a careless looking shrug shook her head._

_“Still nothing,” she said as sat down to her desk, and turned to a blueprint._

_“Sol, my father… we have connections, we have money…”_

_“No, Evie,” she refused it categorically as looked at her._

_“But why? At least I would spend money on something that really matters. Something important. Not just clothes and hats.”_

_Solona turned back to her blueprint. “I have to prove my place. Being an engineer as a woman… being a good engineer as a woman is way too embarrassing for those short-sighted old men. If you or your father give me money they will never take me seriously. I will be another opportunist who was in the right place at the right time. I want their acknowledgement. And I can’t earn that with your money.”_

_Evelyn sat down on her bed, and watched her as she worked on her layout. Solona was always a puzzle for her. She was always so serious and she always felt uncomfortable around her. She always respected her intelligence in her own way but this was the first time maybe she admired her. And she wished she could help her in some way._

_She stood up and went to her desk peeking over her shoulder on the blueprint she worked on._

_“What is that?” she asked._

_“It’s an aircraft. Or will be some day if I will ever have time and supplies to build it?”_

_“An aircraft? You mean something what flies on the sky?” Evelyn inquired as swept her eyes through the precisely drawn lines and the elegant curves of the wings, the streamlined fuselage. It was beautiful, revolutionary, and visionary. Evelyn couldn’t get enough of the view. And the more she watched the blueprint the more she wanted to conquer the sky._

_“It’s fairly hypothetical at the moment. I studied aerodynamics…” Evelyn understood only the half of her words, but the way as she spoke about it, the determination in her voice, she knew it is something that would worth all money of the world._

_“Solona, my Dove. Dinner is ready.” Solona’s father came and pressed a soft kiss on his daughter’s forehead and she could swear that it was more endearment in that one gesture than Evelyn’s father gave to her in her whole life. “Are you joining us, Evelyn?” he asked._

_“I already abused your hospitality more than I intended.” Her voice was polite like a proper lady’s._

_“Ohh, Evelyn, you can never abuse our hospitality. Come, don’t be shy.”_

_Evelyn reluctantly accepted the invitation. The dinner was a simple Shepard’s Pie, a bit overcooked, but Evelyn could swear she has never eaten more delicious food in her whole life._

_+++++++++++_

_“Absolutely not, Evelyn, I won’t fund daydreams,“ Lord Trevelyan was categorical._

_They sat at the table, eating dinner together what happened maybe once in four months. The delicacies what the gourmet chef made for them on the table tasted like ash comparing to that overcooked Shepard’s Pie what she ate at Solona’s. The estate itself felt like a cold and rigid place comparing to that cozy home._

_“Father, her idea is revolutionary, it can change the whole world. Imagine as the humanity conquers the…”_

_“I won’t fund a risky daydream what you establish on a blueprint, Evelyn,” her father cut her sharply. Awkward silence descended on the dining room as they ate their dinner._

_“Ohh Darling, the Orlesian ambassador-” her mother tweeted her nonsenses._

_“Then give me my funds and let me make my own business interests to fund this,” Evelyn hissed. Lord Trevelyan slowly took down the silverware and cleaned his mouth with the linen napkin._

_“Evie, do you really think you could handle this properly? This is not for clothes and nonsenses. An investment like this needs planning and calculations…” Evie grabbed the side of the table-cover. Her father thought she was a mindless little girl. Everybody thought she was a mindless little girl. And she was fed up with it._

_“Don’t patronize me!” she shouted us jumped up from the table and slammed her hand on it. “I’m old enough and I have every right to claim my funds.” She fixated her adamant glare on her father, who with a calm and considered move stood up from the table._

_“Come to my study, Evelyn.” he ordered._

_++++++++++++_

_Evelyn took her steps under the archway leading to the laboratory of the campus on that gloomy day. She hated the short and rainy autumn in Ferelden when everything became grey, but the weather was too warm to cover the ground with white snow blanket._

_She hasn’t seen Solona since the funeral. Evelyn remembered as she watched with statuesque face as her parents' coffins were lowered under the ground and buried with black and muddy earth, not shedding a single tear. Even Anders cried like a baby, but she didn’t. Her tranquility was more painful than she would have burst out in hysteria. Ariris and Evelyn tried to comfort her after the ceremony but she locked herself up in her room, saying she had to draw. And since then no word came from her._

_Anders came out from the laboratory, shaking his head agitatedly when she recognized Evelyn and his mouth turned to a faint smile._

_“How is she?” she asked worriedly._

_“Bad, very bad,” Anders answered. “She is barely eating or sleeping. She is here all night and day and works.” Anders took his hand on Evelyn’s shoulders. “You should speak with her. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”_

_“I doubt she would listen to me in anything,” Evelyn muttered as casted her eyes down. Solona never needed her help in anything, why she would need it now._

_Anders hummed. “Then you know her lesser than I thought,” he said and left her there._

_Evelyn entered the laboratory and watched Solona from the door. She seemed thinner and more fragile, the mourning dress made her paler than she already was. Under her fatigue looking green eyes dark and swollen bags. Her hair what was always so vivid and flaming red was lusterless. As she poured the substance from a vial to another she looked like a ghost._

_“Sol…” she addressed her. She did not look at her, just did her work._

_“What are you doing here, Evie?” she asked, her voice flat, almost catatonic._

_“Sol, we haven’t heard about you since the funeral,” she said as took some uncertain steps toward her._

_“I was working,” she answered putting the vial over the Bunsen burner._

_“You should rest a bit.” Evelyn took the steps cautiously to the workbench. Solona did not take a glance on her even for a moment, just did her work like nothing else existed._

_“I can’t. I need to find a solution…I was supposed to help him with this… I need to find a solution.” she muttered this like a mantra. “Leave me to work,” she said lastly._

_Evelyn reached her, took the glass from her hand and hugged her. “LET ME GO:” Solona screamed but more she struggled the more Evelyn tightened her arms around her. “RELEASE ME!!!” She screamed shifted under her embrace._

_“I won’t until you give up this nonsense.” Evelyn whispered in gentle voice._

_“I have to finish this. I have to.” Solona shouted. “I knew he worked with dangerous materials and I was supposed to help him but I spent all my time here and neglected him,” she began to tremble and Evelyn saw the tears trickling down her face. “It was my fault. It was all my fault,” and she began to cry, burying her face into Evelyn’s shoulder, soaking her coat with her tears._

_“It was nobody’s fault, Sol. It was a tragic accident,” Evelyn comforted her, stroking her hair gingerly. "The only thing you could have done if you had been there to die with them.”_

_"They… they gave me everything, Evie. The thought me everything. And now everything seems so pointless.” she sobbed._

_“Sol, you can’t let yourself go now. My father wants to hire you to work for him as a freelancer,” she lied. But she knew that Solona would never agree to work for her, she would refuse as she refused her before._

_Solona snapped her head. “What?” she asked._

_“He wants you to build cutting-edge technologies and some toys for me.”_

_Solona burst out in a laughter. “And what do you exactly want me to build for you to play with?"_

_“Build me the Gryphon, Sol,” she said. “ Give me wings.”_


	20. House 37, Lane 9

The day had proceeded accordingly, and Cullen was looking forward to ending his shift. He sat in his office, going through the lodged reports. Soon he would be catching up with Alistair. It wasn’t much of a social life, but Alistair knew him from before… the case. And it was nice to be with someone who knew who he was all young and fresh and untainted. He leaned back in his leather chair, the folds of the seat moulding to his body. No more strange reports, just a bunch of usual evils. He flipped the reports aside, but one name made him straighten up. This one was lodged today, when he was out on shift. It was her name. He wasn’t misreading it or imagining it. Evelyn Olivie Trevelyan. 

The address was for a home in the Borroughs. But she lived in Drakon’s Rise… He read the nature of the complaint. His jaw tightened, his hand lowered the paper. The charges were severe. Cullen knew that meant lawyers. He would have to investigate this complaint carefully, find as much evidence as possible. But not him. He couldn’t do it. He was too… emotional now to even remotely touch the case. 

The charges date back to when she was fifteen… Alexius was nine years older than her. Maker.. He put the report away. 

The house in the Borroughs was the same as all the others that ran down the street. House 37, Lane 9. It had a narrow garden and the windows had no curtains. Cullen opened the gate, his gray coat a little threadbare from lack of use. It wasn’t that he didn’t have days off, he had one out of every seven. He just rarely went out. Most of the time he was holed up in Fort Drakon working despite the rest. He didn’t know how to do anything else beside his job. He had a hat, and took it off. And walked up to the door. He lifted the door knocker and knocked. The sound echoed inside. 

He waited, wiping his shoes on the hog hair mat at the door. There were footsteps running to the door. He looked up as the door was thrown open. Cullen nearly swallowed his tongue. “Cullen!” Evelyn exclaimed, her voice delighted. Her hair was a mess as if she just got out of bed and her body clad in nothing more than a thin silk night dress that clung to her breasts, leaving little to the imagination - especially in the sudden chill when s he opened the door. She was also holding a spatula.

“Andraste!” Cullen croaked and turned away, his cheeks on fire. “Why are you not robed?” He pulled off his coat and, taking care to keep his eyes averted as much as possible, he wrapped it over her shoulders. 

“I am robed,” Evelyn blinked. 

He turned to her only when his coat covered her. “You don’t answer the door in your night shift!” Cullen said, appalled and titillated by the memory of her shift. 

“I haven’t got any servants yet,” Evelyn said. “It’s a long way from the bedroom to the door! And I was in the kitchen.” She froze. “Fuck!” She turned and ran into the house, leaving Cullen at the door, standing in the chill in nothing but his shirt and suspenders. Cullen stepped in and shut the door. 

He ran after her down the winding stairs to the kitchens. There was the smell of smoke. Cullen’s feet moved faster and he opened the door to the kitchen. Steam burst through the door. “By the Maker!” Cullen exclaimed. Evelyn was standing in front of the washing basin that was steaming as a hot skillet cooled. She looked up at him, her cheeks colouring as she clasped spatula and rag. “You could have caught me at a better time,” she muttered. 

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing?” Cullen asked her, walking up to her. 

“Frying bread.” She looked away. Sure enough, there was a single burnt slice of bread floating in the water of the wash basin.

He glanced at her. She pushed her sleeves up and picked up the skillet with the rag and set it on the stove again. “I’ve got this!” She snarled. “It’s bread! Why can’t I fry bread?” 

Cullen stood beside her, rolling up his sleeves. “Firstly, that pan is not the cleanest,” he said. 

Evelyn froze, her cheeks colouring. “Have you ever fried bread in your life?” 

Her ears turned a shade of pink. “Go and get dressed first,” he said gently. 

“I can make my own breakfast I’m sure!” Evelyn said, though she didn’t look sure. 

Cullen smiled. “Go and get dressed first and I’ll teach you.”

She stared at him. “ _Teach_ me? How to fry bread?”

“It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”

She stared at the pan, the scummy water pinging from the heat. She sighed. “No, it’s not,” she muttered. 

He took the skillet handle with a rag and went to the basin to clean it. “Go get dressed and come back down. You shouldn’t be walking around in your shift anyway, you’ll catch a cold.” His forearms covered with suds as he dipped the pan into the water, tossing out the sad slice of bread. 

Evelyn smiled impishly at him as she snuggled in his coat. “I can just wear your jacket, it feels like you’re hugging me.”

It was Cullen’s turn to colour this time. “Get dressed, Evie…”

It was an hour or so later that they were seated in Evelyn’s upper drawing room. Sunlight spilled in through the bare windows onto the crates they sat on like a makeshift table, plates between them with cups of juice. Juice. Cullen rarely had juice. They were eating simple fried bread and slices of ham. Evelyn had made it, broadly speaking. “This is the best bread I’ve ever had,” Evelyn said, a hint of pride in her voice. 

It really wasn’t, Cullen smiled faintly. It was slightly stale. “Why?” He asked. 

“Because I bought it, I fried it and I’m eating it!” She sat beside him on a box with her leg folded under her, wearing the clothing the usually did at her sword club - breeches, vest and loose shirt. 

He chuckled. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “But you do have means to not have to do this. When are your servants arriving?”

Evelyn sighed as she picked up her cup and took a sip. “I think I need to hire them,” she said, leaning back on one arm. “Probably a week or more.”

“None are coming from your estate?”

“No.” Her eyes hardened. “I want nothing from my estate.” 

Cullen ate the last of the bread and dusted his hands. “It’s good what you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about?” She sighed. 

“This,” he said. “Leaving. Being on your own.”

“I’m going to die out here,” she frowned. 

“You are not, Evelyn,” Cullen said gently. “You’re much too stubborn for that. You’re going to thrive.”

She smiled at him gratefully. “You’re here because you read my file, aren’t you?” She said. “Are you investigating?”

“No,” he sipped his juice. “I’m not. I’m a bit… too emotionally invested.”

He felt her looking at him, the weight of her thoughts was palpable. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning I cannot approach the investigation unbiased, especially if it’s… true.” He looked up at her. “Which is why I think this is good. It takes a lot of courage to leave.”

She cleared her throat, blushing and looking aside. “You’re going to ask why I didn’t leave sooner? Why I didn’t say anything sooner?”

“No,” he replied. “I know why.”

She stilled. “I know what it’s like to be at the mercy of someone else. It marks you. You’re not the same as everyone else after that. You don’t act the same way someone else would,” he said. “Do you need some help? My sister lives in the Borroughs. I can ask her to help get you settled.”

Evelyn frowned. “You… don’t have to,” she muttered. 

“I know,” he replied. “I want to.”

Evelyn chuckled and smiled. Cullen could see the glint of tears in her eyes, held back by willpower alone. She nodded then. “I don’t know what I’m doing setting up my own household. Some guidance would be wonderful.”

Cullen smiled faintly. “I’ll talk to Mia then. Does anyone from your household know where you are?”

“No,” Evelyn sighed. 

Cullen stared at her. “Does… anyone but me know where you are?”

“No.”

Cullen looked at her. “You’re alone here?”

She lowered her gaze, leaning back on her hands. She said nothing for a while, until her voice quivered, “I think I always was.”

Cullen felt his heart wrench. He looked at the small woman beside him, a personality bigger than herself, too generous and naive for her own good. He set his hand on hers, and her fingers curled around his almost desperately. “You’re not alone, Evie,” he said softly. 

Her thumb ran over his skin, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips as the first tear fell. 


	21. Fight

The carriage that pulled up outside Solona’s laboratory was of the finest red oak, pulled by four elegant palfreys. The man that dismounted was equally elegant, wearing a gray suit that set off his silver blonde hair remarkably. The laboratory was in what used to be a warehouse near the docks, a tall building of red brick with steel girders to hold the roof up. He stepped into the warehouse, seeing the sunlight streaming in from the glass windows near the cieling. The lab within was a thing of wonder, hanging chains and cogs glittering in the sunlight, the light steam in the air from the engines within. He strolled among the gadgets, not touching anything, his cane tapping on the brick ground.

“Excuse me!” He heard the voice he was hoping to hear. He smiled as he turned, seeing a ginger-haired, plain woman running up to him from across the factory. Her dress was a tatty brown and stained with oil and grease. “Excuse me!” She was calling, waving a spanner. “You can’t come in here! You--”

She reached him and he bowed with florid grace. “My lady,” he said.

Solona looked puzzled. “Lady?” She asked.

“You are Solona Amell, are you not?” He asked. “The brilliant engineer I have heard so much about?” He took her greasy hand and kissed it, every inch the gentleman. He saw the blush creeping across that freckled face. “Earl Alexius Du Grace at your service, my lady.”

She stood stil for a moment, then pulled her hand away from his, blushing to the roots of her hair. “I am no lady!” She scolded. “And you shouldn’t be in here!”

“Allow me to have tea with you, my lady,” he said. “I am eager to see the fruits of your labour - to see where so much of the Trevelyan funds are pumped into. And perhaps… make a proposition on behalf of Du Grace Enterprises.”

Solona stared at him, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “What?”

“I’ve studied your writing for the Denerim University, Miss Amell.” He walked through the lab, his eyes taking in everything. Solona was swept in his wake. “I hear you are the foremost engineer on personal powered flight and aerodynamics. Yet none of your patents, and you have many, are filed under the Trevelyan name - or rather, not the company’s name.”

“Foremost?” Solona blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that, you are the most prolific writer on the subject, and research led me to your patents. Your patents led me to you.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be blunt, Ms Amell. I don’t think your inventions are getting the attention that Trevelyan Industries is giving it. Only funds for research, why not more? Why not production? Why not advertising? Why not showcasing? I saw your patent for the craft called the Gryphon. Really, a toy just for Evelyn?”

“Why does this worry you?” Solona challenged. “You’re going to marry Evie!”

“I wonder about that,” Alexius sighed. “She has found a new beau, do you not know? A captain of the guard, I hear. She’s wound him around her finger. I know we were growing distant in the past few years, but this is… distressing.” He frowned as he adjusted his glove. “I had invested so much into her company, but I suppose she does not need me now that she has… _Cullen_.”

Solona frowned. “I never knew she had such a streak in her to discard those she did not require,” Alexius said mournfully. “Ah, but listen to me, I’m simpering like a fool. I am not here for Evelyn. I have had enough of her games. I am here for you, Miss Amell. I would like to offer you a position. Head of Research and Engineering at Du Grace Enterprises - full funding for product development, especially in the field of personal powered flight. That is the future, that is not a toy for a little girl. Why should you give someone like Evelyn wings when you can lift the whole world into the sky?”

Solona looked away. “Because if anyone deserves wings… it’s Evelyn,” she murmured.

“Then I pray your loyalty is not misplaced on someone unworthy,” Alexius said. He took out a card and placed it her hand. He also placed a folio into her grasp. “A copy of the contract,” he said. “If you agree with the terms, sign it and hand it to over to my office on Drakon’s Rise.” He smiled at her, his face handsome and gentle all at once. “You shouldn’t have to live in squalor to keep Evelyn in silken sheets. The deal comes with a home on the Rise, large enough to start a family - perhaps even your own home lab. Do read through it and get back to me soon, Ms Amell.”

 

+++++

 

Solona dissolved the red lyrium in the liquid and watched as it paints it from transparent to sanguine. She could never get tired by the view. It was mesmerizing. Working in her lab, making her experiments, calibrating the Gryphon, it always gave her certainty, yet her mind was in dissension now.

The more glances she stole on the business card and the folio the more she found it rational. Full funding, staff, production, keeping the rights of patents, a home… where she could start a life, a laboratory which would be just hers. It almost sounded too good to be true.

Why did she felt herself guilty for even considering this? It was Evie’s father who funded her, not Evie anyway. It was business, not friendship. She has built gadgets and machines for Evelyn for years and nobody acknowledged it. Nobody knew it was her, nobody knew she built the Gryphon, just Evelyn. What was a dream for her, for Evelyn was just a plaything.

And yet no matter how many times she tried to listen to her rationality it never felt right. It never felt right to betray Evelyn. Not her father, not Trevelyan Industries. And Evelyn deserved her wings. And if Solona were to be stuck on the ground, at least the world knows what she had done. Evelyn deserved that much. She deserved the glory.

Speaking of the devil… The door to her factory opened then, and Evelyn entered, wearing a coat over her breeches and vest that she usually wore at the sword club. She seemed even brighter than usual, she always seemed brighter than usual since she met the Captain.

 _Life was full with cruel tricks._ She stated herself for a thousandth time. She was happy for Cullen and Evelyn, and yet it felt very wrong. Evelyn was engaged, betrothed to another man. She shouldn’t be taking this so lightly.

“Any progression?” Evelyn asked as reached Solona's workbench. Solona took down the vial of dissolved red lyrium and looked into her sparkling blue eyes.

“Anders and I made interesting observations,” Solona began. “We made the discovery that lyrium is organic.”

“Organic?” Evelyn exclaimed.

“Red lyrium grows in human flesh. Only organic life forms are capable of this,” Solona replied. “A few years ago Anders and I made experiments with lyrium for medical purposes, but this research ended in a very…“ she swallowed a big one before continued. She still felt her skin crawling thinking of it,” …disastrous way. But we made valuable observations. Lyrium creates a symbiotic and mutual beneficial relationship with the host what can be maintained with small amount of resupply. Red lyrium acts differently, “she explained. “At first it is beneficial either, but it attacks the nerve system and develops massive addiction and slowly consumes the host. It acts like a parasite, like a virus. And there is no cure for the addiction. We tried to make experiments with rodents but withdrawal made them extremely aggressive.”

“Maker,” Evelyn heaved. “So who owns the red lyrium-”

“Can own the host. Through dependency, of course.” Solona finished the sentence. Heavy silence descended on the lab.

“Evie…” Solona broke the silence uncertainly. She deserved to know. “Your fiancé visited me a few days ago.”

Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “Did he now?”

“He offered me a position at Du Grace Enterprises as the head of the Research and Engineering Department,” she couldn’t look into Evelyn's eyes. Why did this all feel so guilty?

“But you aren't seriously considering accepting his offer?” Evelyn asked. Solona remained silent. “Are you?” she asked again, her voice harder.

“He made a very generous offer,” Solona quavered.

“Oh, Sol he is just toying with you!” Evelyn scoffed. “He uses people all the time. He exploits your talent to make him inventions what he can keep himself leaving nothing for you.”

“Just like you?” she asked. The air thickened around them as those words left Solona's mouth. It just poured out from her and she wanted to unsay them, but it was too late. She saw Evelyn’s glance hardening as their eyes met.

“What do you mean?" Evelyn hissed.

“Evie…” she tried to find the proper words.

Alistair needed her! Evie did not need her just her talent, just the things she made for her. And she was tired of having to prove her worthiness for her friendship. Solas was right so many years ago. She could be in denial, but he was right.

“You are using people too, Evie,” Solona said. “You kept me around to make you things, to build you the Gryphon to have some expensive toys you can play with.”

Evelyn snorted. “You can’t be serious. What Alexius has told you? What has be managed to manipulate you into believing?”

“Evie, you are playing your games too. As you did with me, and Cullen… and Alexius!" Solona said, her hand shaking. Why was her hand shaking? “You are engaged, you have obligations and yet you are fooling around with the Captain? Like it was right and considered! You shouldn't be--”

“What?" Evelyn snapped, her cane coming down hard on the brick floor of the laboratory. "What should I not be? A spoiled little child? An entitled princess? A pretty little doll who has everything she could ever want with just a flutter of her eyelashes? What else am I to you besides this, Solona?” Evie yelled.

“Evie, do you really think what you are doing with Cullen is right?” Solona asked her voice was still low. Why did this felt so guilty and unjust?

“Maker, don't you dare ask me that from your precious high horse!” her voice became more and more heated with every word.

“Evie…” Solona tried to cut her.

“Stupid little Solona, so blind to see what's in front of your face! Evelyn has everything? Spare me! I have nothing what really matters. NOTHING. Or would you have liked my beautiful golden cage of a childhood? I got everything what I wanted except what I needed. You had a cozy home, a loving family. There was more love in one kiss of your father than mine gave me in my entire life. They taught you, valued you. I was just a pretty item on the market that my dear father could sell to expand his interests - and believe me, he did! To a piece of shit eight years older than I was! You have intelligence and a brain I can only dream of and yet you are too _stupid_ to see the simplest things!” The tears gathered in her eyes, her mouth trembled, just as her every muscle. She squeezed her fingers around the cane with the hidden blade Solona made her.

“Evie I didn’t mean it like that...” Solona tried to comfort her, taking some steps toward her, but he did some backwards in the same time.

“Oh, you meant every word! You are always rubbing this under my nose. I asked you to build me the Gryphon because I believed in your dream. Because it was something visionary, something wonderful. Something what connected us. And now you want it to throw to that bastard for some money?”

“Evie, Alistair and I...”

"Do you even know who he is?" Evelyn cried. "And what about Cullen and I? Or I do not deserve to be happy because, of course, I have _everything_?" She snorted. "Then again, you come out on top here too. You can love your dear Alistair freely, and no one will judge _you._  No one will ever wonder if what you're doing is the right thing, no one will question you, no one will call you a slut for being with a decent man instead of the fiance who--" She bit her lip, the words ceasing, burning her cheeks as the words writhed unspoken. 

“Evelyn… I know you love Cullen…”

“Shut up, Solona! This isn't about him!” Evelyn snapped to her as went to the desk for the folio with the contract. “If you want to sell your dream, _our_ dream, do it.” And she dropped it on the workbench just before Solona. “Have I ever left you in deprivation? You wanted to work for your dreams, and now that bastard comes and offers you a quick way out, you take it without a thought? Go ahead, Solona. But don't ever be fooled to think Alexius will not use you. He will take what he wants and what he owns for his own means. Sign it then, and find out for yourself what I had to live with for the past six years.” And she turned on her heels and stomped out slamming a door behind herself so strong that the windows shook by it.

Solona opened the folio and leafed it through until he reached the clause and the place for her signature. Alexius had already signed it. Solona could buy her independence with this, her new life.

She searched for her fountain pen.

The world would acknowledge her talent at last. They would know her name, her inventions. She would prove her place in the scientific world at last.

_Then why did it feel so wrong?_


	22. Blessings

There was a knock on Evelyn’s door and the day brightened. The wiped her forehead on her sleeve and ran for the door, her boots kicking up dust on her floor. A familiar tall silhouette was visible through the frosted panels of the windows beside the door. She stopped before a mirror and checked her eyes. They weren’t red, good. It was a good thing she stopped crying a while ago to allow her face to recover. Yes there were tears. There were rages. There were lulls of melancholy in the silence of her house. Evelyn had resorted to training, a sword always beside her. She wondered if Alexius would come. As it was, her lawyers were already taking the case in hand. But that did not help her. She was alone. Only one person would come to visit her. The others didn’t even try to find her. She wept about that. She raged about that. In the darkness, her cries filled the house. But it was no use. Every day was an affirmation that Solona and Ariris didn’t care, didn’t bother to find her. Perhaps it was true - they didn’t need her. She was not good for them. She was a spoiled little princess, as Solas and Solona had said. Maybe they were better without her, so much of what was wrong in their lives was all her fault anyway. Stupid Evelyn...

She pushed the thought from her head as she reached the door. No, she couldn’t break down crying again. After that day with Cullen… enough was enough. No more tears in front of others. She adjusted her vest. She was robed this time, so he wouldn’t have to blush so much - though she did love his blush. He was the only one… the one bright spark in all this. His sincerity burning like the sun in the storm of her life. 

She opened the door to two people. Evelyn looked up at them both. Cullen was there in that same simple gray suit he wore on his days off, as well as another woman, her hair twisted in tight golden curls and donned in an almost severe brown dress. She was also taller than Cullen by at least two inches. Evelyn blinked, her hand on the door, the other held a sword. “You are tall,” she blurted. Cullen’s mouth twitched.

“Evelyn,” Cullen began. “This is--”

“Oh, Cullen, she’s adorable!” The tall woman cooed. 

“Mia!” Cullen sighed. 

“You’re his sister?” Evelyn blinked. She looked down at her hand and saw the sword there. “Uh!” She shoved it into the umbrella stand with her parasols. “Uh - hello!” 

“Hello!” Mia smiled, shaking Evelyn’s hand. “Cullen’s told us all about you!” 

“Has he?” Evelyn glanced at Cullen as Mia shook her hand, who was watching with equal parts amusement and dread. 

“Don’t worry, everything good,” Mia said. “I hear you need help setting up house.”

“Yes, very much,” Evelyn squeaked. “Uh, come in, please!” She led the way into the house and opened her parlour. She shut the door just as quickly, feeling the shame of the state of her house. The parlour was not fit for visitors. It was filthy with clothes and used dishes and blankets strewn about. She glanced at them. “Uh, upstairs?” She smiled. 

Mia strode forward and despite Evelyn’s feeble protests. She firmly but gently pushed Evelyn aside opened the door. “Oh my,” Mia sighed. Evelyn stood in the hallway, blushing and embarrassed. Cullen stepped forward. Evelyn held him back, a hand on his chest as she other held akimbo. “You don’t need to see this, alright?” Evelyn grated, avoiding his gaze. 

“True,” Mia said, shutting the door. “I suppose the first thing you need is a butler.” 

Evelyn sighed heavily. “Tea?” She asked. “The upstairs parlour isn’t that bad.”

“The book room?” Cullen asked.

“That’s got papers in it now,” she admitted. “I do have a business to run. Several of them. I just don’t meet people in this house.” She cleared her throat. 

“You’re keeping busy,” Cullen smiled. 

“Obviously, but not with cleaning,” Evelyn said, leading them upstairs, her ears red. It was abominable. She was closing deals for patents that cost as much as a whole street of Borroughs houses and yet she couldn’t even keep one house clean? She showed them into the a room filled with swords against the walls, furniture still mostly under dust sheets. “I’ll be back with tea,” she said. “Excuse me.” She turned and left them, but heard them talking the minute she was gone. 

“Why haven’t you at least helped her with the sheets?” Mia chided. 

“Because every time I come she’s been crying,” Cullen muttered in reply. “The last thing she wants to deal with are sheets.”

Evelyn choked back the lump that rose in her throat, grasping her hands together as she stood in the hallway. He understood. He knew, somehow - he knew how it felt. He knew when to let her cry, when to cheer her up, when to leave, when to stay. How did he know all this? Why was he wasting all this goodness… here? On her?

She drew a deep breath and moved on, her boots tapping on the stairs as she walked quickly to the kitchens. Tea. She knew how to make tea. Hot water. Tea strainer, tea leaves - easy. Cups and milk and sugar. She busied herself. She was surviving, of sorts. Her businesses were in order, just not her house. Just not her emotions. Thank the Maker for that man… She set the kettle of water on the stove and leaned back waiting.

What could she do for him? Something in return. Buy something? No, she kept giving with Sol and Ari, and where did that get her? How could she pay him back? She heard another knock. Evelyn frowned and ran up the stairs to her hallway. The knocking came again. “Hold a moment!” She called. Delivery? Probably more papers. Evelyn opened the door. 

Her muscles froze, her body locking up as she looked up into gray eyes, cold and empty. “Evie,” Alexius smiled, taking off his top hat, his silver hair catching the light. 

“How did you find me?” She growled. The sword was next to her. As was he cane. Alexiu had no idea how much she wanted to hurt him… spil his blood. Maker help her…

“Your address is on the court documents. My lawyers acquired them when yours submitted them.” He smiled. “Might I come-”

“You will not step into this house,” Evelyn snarled, reaching for her sword but grasping her cane automatically. She stepped out onto her doorstep, Alexius taking a step back down the stairs. “Maker help me, Alexius - I have a court order--”

“Which is not yet in effect,” he said. “I came to speak with you, Evie.”

“Don’t call me that!” She snapped.

“But I want to know why, Evelyn! I deserve to know at least!”

Evelyn grit her teeth, her body shaking with rage. “You ask me this?” She hissed. “After everything?”

“We were only doing what couples do, Evie, no need to make a fuss about it.”

“Go away!”

“You would rather live in squalor than be with me?”

“This is infinitely better, Alexius,” she smiled coldly. “Because this is my property. And using force to evict you from my property is justified.”

“You threaten me?” He asked coldly. 

“You took advantage of me!” Her hand twitched on her sword cane, red mists in her eyes, more angry with herself than with him and feeling the fool for thinking that way. 

“You belong to me! I hardly see how I was taking advantage as much as I was taking what’s mine--”

Evelyn caught herself shifting her grip on her cane to draw the sword just in time as the door clicked open behind her. 

Alexius looked over her shoulder and sneered. Then his laughter came, mirthless and cruel. “Come inside, Evie,” Cullen said gently to her. “You don’t have to give him anything, not even your time.”

“Oh Maker, listen to you!” Alexius laughed. “Sounding like such a civilised gentleman! You! A bumpkin from some mountain backwater thinks he can play gentleman in the city? Oh Andraste…”

Evelyn’s eyes lanced into Alexius. 

“Evelyn?” Alexius chuckled. “I had no idea you liked to lay with swine--”

The blade leapt forward like a serpent. Alexius blinked, looking down the length of her cane blade, then a thin sliver of blood flowed from the open gash on his lip. Evelyn’s sword was steady. “I have been with swine all my life, Alexius,” she purred. “It’s about time I found someone honest and dignified and sincere, something you know know nothing about. A proper gentleman.”

Alexius’s eyes flashed. Evelyn felt Cullen walking up to her. “Good cut, very precise,” he said and Evelyn could hear the smile in his voice. It made her heart leap. She was terrified before but now… now she had wings. Alexius couldn’t own her - if she didn’t let him. She felt Cullen’s hand close over her sword hand. “Come on, Evie, we’ve got water on the boil.” He led her away, his hand chaste on her waist. Evelyn’s mind was soaring, dancing as the chains fell away. She was safe. Always safe. 

“You’ll regret ever interfering, Rutherford,” Alexius snapped, blood from his lip spraying. “You’d better watch your back!”

Evelyn froze. She looked over her shoulder at Alexius, her eyes burning with the promise of pain. “Evie, it doesn’t matter,” Cullen said. “Try not to pay attention to dogs that bark in the street.”

Alexius sneered. “Good day then, Captain,” Alexius purred, bowing and tipping his hat. “You may not like what you have done, taking her away from me.”

Evelyn tensed, her sword arm curling, but Cullen held her arm fast and led her into the house. Cullen smiled at Alexius and shut the door. Where there were once wings of freedom, Evelyn now felt dread. She turned to him. “Cullen,” she said urgently. “He will--”

“What?” Cullen asked, locking the door. “Bluster? Fight me? He won’t take this lying down, certainly.”

Evelyn frowned. “Then--”

“Evelyn, it’s alright. Nobles threaten me all the time,” he assured her. 

She stared at him, feeling as if her fears had the legs kicked out from under it. “What?”

“Nobles don’t like it when you escort their drunk sons away to jail for kicking their courtesans and such,” Cullen said, scratching his stubble. “Nobles make my teeth itch. Present company excepted, of course.”

Evelyn realized her mouth was open. She shut it. “But it’s Alexius!” 

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Nice cut, by the way. Very clean and precise. Did you mean to do that?”

Evelyn looked down at her sword cane. “I can… I can cut a man’s finger off from the trigger of a gun,” she muttered, confused. 

He grinned at her. “I’m impressed. You’re afraid but not acting in fear anymore. And you’re surprisingly good at precision strikes.”

Evelyn blinked, staring at him. She was afraid, but she was fighting. Her sword was always at her side. She… she wasn’t his… She blinked away the tears and sheathed her cane sword before angrily wiping her tears from her eyes. “Maker,” she muttered. “I’m crying every time you come by! I’m- I’m such--”

“An amazing woman,” he said softly. He touched her cheek and held her chin, drawing her gaze up to him. She met those eyes, those eyes that shone like the sun. He smiled. “You’re fighting back, that’s all that matters.”

Evelyn felt her heart leap at his words and she laughed through the tears. She smacked him on she shoulder lightly. “Stop it,” she chuckled. “I think about you enough already, don’t make it worse.”

Cullen chuckled. At that, his cheeks lighting up. “We should spend more time together,” Evelyn said. “Not in here. Somewhere clean without dust sheets.”

She looked up at him, her eyes a little vulnerable. Was she asking too much of him? She was a spoiled little girl. She bit her lip. Dared she show him… He wouldn’t eve--

“I would… like that,” he said then. Evelyn stopped and looked up at him, his fingers on her chin. Maker’s breath what had she done to deserve this? He was… 

“Me too,” she grinned suddenly. 

Cullen’s smile was… surprised, gentle. “You said that,” he murmured. 

She wanted to kiss him. Her eyes fell to his lips. He never pressed. Not since that night, not in all the time they spent alone together, he never pressed… He was looking at her too. She knew the sight of desire, half hooded eyes, fingers gentle on her chin. Her heart pounded. She steeled herself as she did that night in the rain. 

Then someone cleared her throat. 

Cullen took his hand off her as if she was fire and Evelyn stepped away from him just as quickly. “Uh!” She exclaimed, her face burning red. Mia stood on the stairs, watching them, her arms crossed. “I think the kettle’s boiling,” Evelyn said hurriedly. 

“That’s not all that’s heated, apparently,” Mia smirked. 

“Mia!” Cullen scolded, his cheeks just as red as Evelyn’s. 

Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh. “Was it heated?” She asked Cullen playfully. 

“We didn’t do anything,” Cullen said quickly. 

“We’ll try better next time,” Evelyn grinned. “Don’t worry.”

“She’s my sister!” Cullen exclaimed, but Mia was already laughing. Warmth. Laughter. Inclusion. Like Solona’s family… but it was in her house, while Alexius was out in the cold. What had she done to deserve this? Evelyn looked at Cullen trying to feebly explain that nothing had happened in the hallway as she smiled at him knowingly. What had she done to deserve this? Perhaps nothing… but that’s what blessings were, she mused as she went down to make the tea. They were given to you so that you made yourself worthy. If she had failed Sol and Ari, perhaps she wouldn’t fail Cullen...


	23. Mistake

Ariris entered the factory. It always fascinated her. The chaotic looking system of the cogs, the piles of blueprints on the walls, giving out the wildest dreams, the book on the shelves filled with knowledge and the curlicue glass tubes and vials filled with colorful liquids. It was the shrine of science.

And the middle of it there was Solona, the priestess.

She glanced on Ariris with a faint smile before returned to her work, fixing her parasol. Ariris observed her movements. Solona and Solas were so similar and yet so different. Ariris had seen the same dedication in Solas when he healed. They both served something majestic. Maybe that was the reason they always got along so well. She often watched them as they learnt together under the shade of the gazebo in silent consensus. Ariris knew Solas liked Solona if not admired for her intelligence and this feeling was mutual. And maybe this led to their rivalry. Ariris never knew what happened between them and none of them wished to speak about it.

And they were so different. Solas went astray, gave up everything that he and Ariris built together, while Solona, no matter what kept going on her path. Evelyn often told her she admired Solona’s perseverance, and Ariris did too. But Solona felt always distant, escaped in her own world where they had no place.

She watched Solona's deliberate, calculated moves. Even her motions were similar to Solas. The screwdriver was her scalpel, the parasol her patient and she treated it like it was a living thing, because for her it was.

"I was always fascinated by this place,” Ariris said as examined the beautiful system of lines on a blueprint. “It is filled with wild ambitions and impossible dreams waiting to come true.”

Solona slammed the screwdriver on the workbench and looked at her. Something was in her eyes, something what he saw in two hazel ones days ago. The pain of being lost. No wonder they found each other.

“Are you mocking me, Ari?” she asked as returned to her work.

“Hardly,” Ariris replied as turned to the bookshelves with the books and that still fresh-looking red rose. Ariris reached for it to change the water in the vase.

“Don’t touch anything,” Solona ordered with a scolding glare. This was her only rule. The laboratory was her domain and Ariris and Evelyn always felt they were justintruders there and still this place became their second home and Solona never sent them away. She shouted at them, sometimes dropped harsh words to their heads, but her door has always been open when they needed.

“I just wanted to change the water in the vase,” Ariris apologized.

“It is unnecessary,” Solona snapped. “I was about throwing it out. It was a mistake," her voice trembled, her fingers tightened around her screwdriver. She never showed how much she was wounded. She always hid behind the walls of her intelligence and sarcasm. But who knew the pain the way Ariris knew, the invisible injuries were as obvious as a deep and bleeding cuts.

“Sol, do you like Officer Theirin?” she asked. Solona slammed her screwdriver to the table again.

“Does it matter?” she hissed and returned to her work. Her hands were shaking. She was as damaged as Alistair, the same pain ate her. She tried to fix the tiny screw to Its place, but she did not succeeded. She bit her lips, tightened her fingers more around the instrument, but its end never found the groove of the screw. With a slow but tensed move, she set the screwdriver onto the table.

“Has it ever mattered how I feel?” Solona sighed, more likely speaking herself as she walked to her giant window facing to the docks. “Nobody has ever asked me how I feel. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn’t matter that I stop functioning around him. My heart pounds so strongly, I can practically hear it. I know too much of this world to know how it works. I have no illusions," her hand moved to her eyes, lifting her glasses and wiping some unshed tears from it.

Ariris went to her taking her hand on her shoulder but she winced by her touch so her hands withdrew. “It _does_ matter, Sol,” she whispered.

Solona chuckled bitterly, painfully as it drowned into a whimper. Ariris saw as her fingers closed into a tight fist before her mouth, so strong that her whole arm shook by it.

“Don’t you think you are a bit late to care about me, Ari?” she attacked like a wounded prey who had no other choice to escape.

Solas and Solona were so similar, knowing the way to make deep cuts with words. It was a more dangerous weapon then Evelyn’s swords or Ariris’s rifle. A cut or a hole in the flesh caused by a bullet can be healed, but the damage that a well-aimed remark could cause was permanent. They both knew that. But Solona only used this weapon of her when she was hurt, to defend herself.

 _Physics and chemistry are the series of reactions and counter-reactions._ Solona was always saying this to Ariris when she tried to explain science. And Ariris knew she tried to schematize everything by this principle. She was hurt. That was the reaction. So she hurt others to countervail. That was the counter-reaction. Ariris always wondered a smart and intelligent girl like her who built wonders like her laboratory or the Gryphon how could see the world so black and white.

“How can something that started long ago be late?” Ariris asked the poetic question as tried to touch her again, but Solona slipped away, turning to her.

“Ohh, please,” she snorted. “My whole life is about proving my worthiness to everybody. And I was never good enough. I was never worthy of friendship, acknowledgement. I was never worthy of  _love_. Don’t you find it ironic that the only one who valued me beside my parents your _dear_ husband?” she laughed hysterically as the last word left her mouth.

“Sol, Solas values nothing but himself,” Ariris snapped. Yes, she really knew how to use the weapons of the words, she really knew how to cause pain.

“Do you believe your own words?” Solona hissed. “Or do you really know so little about him? I think the latter. There is so much you don’t know about him.”

“Sol, you are just hurt, I know even you do not mean your words,” Ariris tried to soothe her.

“What do you know about me?” she yelled, her tears trickled down her cheeks. “What exactly do you and Evie know about me? You always had your own little world to what if I was lucky you let me into. You have no idea about the things I had do-” her speech drowned into crying.

She stomped to the bookshelf taking the rose from the vase and at first broke it into two and then tore the petals into shreds. She panted as watched the remnants around her hands in fist, her muscles trembling.

“I don’t deserve love. I made too many mistakes, too much misdeeds to deserve it,” her voice became low not louder than the rustle of the wind. “For a moment I even believed I did. But I’m no fool. I know myself.”

Ariris took the steps cautiously. Solona's pain was so radiating it pierced her milk-white skin. She even heard as Solona's breath slowing as she built her walls again. She wanted to hug her and not let go until she forgot this nonsense, until she began to see herself as they saw her.

“Sol-“ she reached out for her but Solona slipped away again, heading back to her workbench, picking up her screwdriver.

“Never mind,” Solona's voice became agonizingly calm. “I will get better, I always do.” She returned to her work with Ariris’ parasol, her moves steady and deliberate again, but the air around her was thick and chocking, the silence that descended on the laboratory was deafening.

They did not exchange a single word. Ariris sat down and read the book that she always kept at Solona's, from those she learned to read from. She leafed through the pages, stealing some glances on Solona as she tinkered with her screwdriwer, her face statuesque, only the deep swallows she took hinted her inner storms.

When she finished without a word she handled the parasol to Ariris and began to put her instruments back into the toolbox.

“Sol,” Ariris addressed her cautiously. “Do you still read at the park on Thursdays?”

Solona looked on her, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Yes. Why are you asking?”

“Just curiosity. Thanks for the repair.” Solona, with a faint smile, nodded as a reply and drew her glance back on her toolbox.

And Ariris knew it is time for her to go away, so she left Solona there among the loneliness of her wonders.


	24. Last of the Red

More knocks on the door, and Evelyn froze upstairs with Mia, who was helping her clear out her bedroom. “Let me,” Mia smiled as she tossed aside the dust sheet from an armoire. 

“Let me!” Evelyn exclaimed. 

“Maybe it’s Cullen?” Mia smiled. 

“No, it wouldn’t be,” Evelyn said automatically. “His day off is in two days and he’s on the beat--” She caught Mia eyeing her with that smug face. Evelyn blushed and knew Mia was making fun of her. She stuck her tongue out at Mia and ran down the hallway as Mia’s laughter ghosted after her. 

Mia was wonderful. Like a big sister, like Ari, but a bit more stern. Far more stern. Evelyn was told off for a lot of things that ladies did not do - like leaving swords all over the house. Apparently, being a middle class woman had far more rules than being upper class. Which Evelyn found odd. Still, she hadn’t removed the sword from her umbrella stand. She grasped it and opened the door, expecting Alexius. 

“Ello, guv? Fancy a bit of Right Said Fred?” 

Evelyn stared down at the short girl with dirty blonde hair, wearing an ill-fitting dress and carrying a basket of bread and buns. She handed Evelyn a bun and winked. 

Evelyn frowned. “I don’t think I can--” she began. 

“Take a peek, give it a way if you like,” Sera grinned and ran off down the street. 

Evelyn groaned. More Red Jenny… enough was enough… She opened the bread and saw a note inside it. She read it, staring at the words. This couldn’t be true… but she had to know, she had to investigate this lead. A red lyrium warehouse? She had to check it out. But not with Sol. Or Ari. She couldn’t endanger them. Just her then. If the tip was accurate she would… give it away. She knew exactly to whom. Evelyn took a bite of the bread thoughtfully and coughed, spitting it out. “Urgh!” She exclaimed, throwing the bread aside. It was the worse bread she’d ever tasted. Sera had better not quit her day job to join baking. But first, she had to get away from Mia...

+++++

Alistair looked up in his own office, dimly illuminated by a lamp. It was dark, but that didn’t hide the surprise in his eyes. “Well now!” He said with a certain smugness as Cullen walked into his office. “Well now, well now, now, well… now.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. And sat down on the chair, adjusting his jacket lapel. Alistair was smoking and took a long drag as Cullen crossed his legs on the chair. The end of the cigarette illuminated Alistair’s eyes in the dimness. “Let me guess, little lady,” Alistair purred with a husky voice that did not suit him at all. “A man done you wrong?”

“You need to stop reading Varric’s books, Alistair,” Cullen sighed. 

“Not often a beautiful blond walks into my office,” Alistair chuckled, exhaling smoke. 

“Keep that up and people are going to get absolutely the wrong idea about us,” Cullen pointed out, waving the smoke away from his face. 

“Handing over cases?” Alistair asked. 

“Yes, just wondering if you’re knocking off soon,” Cullen said. “Want to go for a drink?”

“Might as well,” Alistair said, standing up and taking his coat. “The Crown?”

“Where else would be fitting for you?” Cullen smirked slightly. 

“Har har, Rutherford, not funny,” Alistair said as he pulled his jacket on. They made their way out of the yard, so called because their headquarters. “So what cases can we expect tomorrow at the morning briefing?” 

“A few cases, minor robberies, a domestic disturbance, a corpse. A complaint.” Cullen stepped out into the air and pulled on his coat, the lining snug against his body. She lining she sewed, the name she embroidered. “From Evie-- Evelyn. Trevelyan.”

Alistair glanced at him. “About?” He asked slowly. 

“You’ll see.” Cullen replied tightly. 

“Should I request for the case?” Alistair asked then, their own little lingo they knew to mean, do you want my help?

“No, this involves lawyers, it’s pretty - messy. And you cannot come into it unbiased as my friend.”

“Right then,” Alistair drew a long drag on his cigarette. “Of course I am a nosy bastard so…”

“Just don’t get involved officially,” Cullen pressed. 

“Right.” They walked out into the cobbled street, heading to their diner. Alistair glanced at his friend, who seemed to be quieter than usual. And Alistair knew why. He flicked the cigarette away into the puddles. “What day is it?”

Cullen told him immediately. 

“Getting close,” Alistair murmured. 

Cullen grunted. 

“I’ll take a day off, shall I?”

Cullen nodded. 

They walked in silence for a while more. “Does she know?” Alistair asked then. He could feel his friend tensing. Cullen had never spoken about that day, not to anyone. But Alistair had always taken leave every… anniversary, if you want to call it that. Every year on the same day, just to help pick Cullen off the floor in his stupor. Help him get home. Help him crawl into bed as he tried to drink the day away. But Cullen had always been alone. Not anymore, from what Alistair gathered. 

“No,” Cullen replied. “She has enough troubles of her own.” His voice was tight. “She doesn’t have to know.”

“Maybe,” Alistair said. “But that’s her choice, isn’t it? Then again, I shouldn’t talk. I’m just as fucked up at this love nonsense as you are. Just think about telling her, Rutherford, if this is as real as you think it is. I’ll still take the day off.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me,” Alistair grinned as they entered an alley, heading for the Crown. “What are friends for?”

They froze then, seeing a slight figure standing before them. The figure wore a hooded leather jacket, face hidden behind a gas mask and goggles. The figure carried a stick, plain and unadorned, both ends bound in leather sheathes. It stood there in the middle of the alley. Alistair raised an eyebrow. 

Cullen was already pushing his coat aside to free his sword. Alistair stared at the figure. “This… the kid on the roof?” He exclaimed, recognizing the description.

The figure waved at them to follow. 

“Put the stick down, friend,” Cullen said. “Give yourself up nice and easy, we don’t want anything to happen.”

The figure seemed to roll its eyes and beckoned them a bit more urgently. “What in the void,” Alistair said, unbuttoning his jacket, his pistol in its holder freed. “Come on, buddy, you can take us wherever once we’ve had a nice cup of-- Fuck!” 

The figure darted forward, quicker than anticipated. Cullen dodged a kick to the face as Alistair reached for his gun. A hand clasped over it as an elbow to the gut knocked him back. Cullen caught the figure’s arm and tried to twist it into an arm lock. The figure twisted in his grasp nimbly, kicking him in the shin as he broke free. Alistair had his gun drawn, time slowing as he aimed it at the figure. Then a blade snaked out, slicing the skin of Alistair’s knuckle on his gun hand. Alistair winced from the pain. 

And the figure darted back into the alley. Alistair took aim but Cullen grabbed his gun hand as it went off, the bullet flying in to the sky. “What the fuck?” Alistair exclaimed. Cullen was staring at the figure with a shade of horror in his eyes. The figure bolted. Cullen gave chase. Alistair swore and followed.

The figure could run. Alistair was breathing hard as he gave chase, racing forward after the tiny kid who was surprisingly good at taking on two armed men. “Why the hell did you stop me shooting? I had reason to use deadly force!”

“Just don’t hurt her!” Cullen croaked, running beside him, his coat flaring. 

“Her?” Alistair exclaimed. A horse and cart rolled out of a side street and blocked their way. Alistair and Cullen clambered around it and stared at the lamp-lit street beyond, patrons of business and shops walking back and forth, oblivious to the two of them. Then something hit Cullen in the side of the head. He turned. The figure was waiting in an alley, waving at them. They charged after him… or her, as Cullen said. Alistair saved up all his breath for thinking, there would be questions later. The figure reached an iron spiral staircase outside a building. It took off up the side of the stairs, climbing the structure like a ladder. 

“What is she made of?” Alistair snapped, climbing up the stairs, their feet pounding on the structure. 

The figure stood at the top of the stairs, watching them from the rooftop. When they were near enough, she vanished. Cullen kicked down the gate blocking their way at the top of the stairs and they found themselves on the rooftop. The figure waited in the middle of the roof, holding her cane as she stood on lit panels of glass that opened down to the building below. She raised a gloved hand and drew out a silver document tube. The figure tossed the tube. Alistair caught it. “Why have you not given the red lyrium case to someone who can find his arse with both hands?” Asked the figure, voice muffled through the mask. 

Alistair looked down at the tube and drew out the document within. Notes of shipments. Alistair flipped the rolled paper, fumbling as the sheets tried to roll back up. “Cullen - these are deeds for a warehouse belonging to Du Grace Enterprises-” he breathed. 

“If they’re true,” Cullen growled. “If this person has no ulterior motive to implicate Du Grace from behind a mask.”

The figure remained still. She gestured to the glass below her. “See for yourself,” she said. 

Cullen drew his blade, the figure making no move to defend herself. Alistair walked up to the rooftop and looked down. “Sweet Andraste…” he breathed. 

Cullen looked down then and turned away. In the factory floor below, crates of red lyrium were being carted around, prepared for sale on the black market. 

“I need you both to hurry up on this,” said the figure. “This is his warehouse, whether he’s involved or not… that’s your job to find out.”

“Who are you supposed to be?” Cullen snapped. 

The figure bowed gracefully, arms spread. “The Red Jennies send their regards,” she said, and hopped off the glass, taking off across the roof. 

Alistair reached out and grabbed Cullen’s arm as he moved to give chase. “Don’t,” he said seriously, looking down at the warehouse, the mixture of red light flooding up amidst the golden lamp’s glow from below. “We have bigger fish to fry.”

+++++

Evelyn lounged in her house. It had been two days since she led Cullen and Alistair, and she pitied that she had given them so much overtime. She lowered the newspaper as she sat at her table in the sunshine. A maid refilled her cup of tea. Evelyn smiled her thanks. Thanks to Mia’s help, she had a staff, at least - a maid, a butler and a cook. Thank the Maker. Her house was in order. The news of the red lyrium bust was all over the papers, along with exposes on the users - middle class citizens. That was a lie. Addicts were right up there among the nobles, but there was no way the editor would allow that to be published. There were letters from the public as well, thanking the authorities. She smiled. Maybe Cullen and Alistair would get a raise or something, she hoped. 

She adjusted her skirts. Now that she had a maid, she could finally get dressed daily. Thank the Maker for that too. She heard the knock on the door and the maid went to answer. “Mistress Trevelyan,” said the maid a moment later. “Captain Cullen has come to call.”

Evelyn smiled. Here it went. At least she was alone on the implication on this one. “Let him in, Maisy,” she said. Maisy bobbed her knees and stepped aside. Cullen stood at the door to her parlour, his face like thunder. “Hello Cullen,” Evelyn smiled. 

“Evelyn, I have something to talk to you about,” he said sternly. 

“Tea?” She asked. 

“I do not want tea!” Cullen snapped. 

“The Captain won’t have any tea, Maisy,” Evelyn said, sipping from her cup. “Kindly shut the door on your way our, please.”

The doe-eyed girl bobbed once more and shut the parlour door. Cullen undid his coat from around his shoulders. “Evelyn--”

“You’ve been busy,” she noted, looking down at the papers. “I see quite a few nobles are asking for a commendation for you. A few civic figures as well. Even Commander Guerrin has something nice to say about you.”

“That isn’t what I’m here to talk about!” Cullen said, standing in front of her. “Evelyn! Are you a Red Jenny?”

So much for subtlety. Evelyn steeled herself. “Cullen, please sit down,” she said. 

“Evelyn!” He snapped. 

“Oh Cullen! Sit! Please.” She looked up at him, her eyes gentle. “Sit. I’ll answer any question you put forth once you just… sit down.”

Cullen glared at her. She could see him seething and wished this conversation did not have to come. He pulled the other chair at her table and sat down. She sighed and set a cup of tea before him and filled it. 

“Stop stalling, Evelyn,” Cullen said. “Are you Red Jenny?”

“Yes, Cullen. I assist the Friends of Red Jenny.”

She looked up at him, his jaw tensing and relaxing, looking right at her. “You blew up the-- no you didn’t,” he muttered. “You’re assisting a terrorist organization!” 

“Cullen, I am not a terrorist,” she said coolly. “I have been assisting them in tracking down red lyrium.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “Wait a moment, Cullen, let me explain. You do know Alistair was being blocked, don’t you? He’s a smart fellow for all that he acts like a bungler. It takes a very special sort of intelligence to appear so creatively dumb. But the case was handed off to Carrol, who cannot find his arse with--”

“Both hands?” He said. 

Evelyn smiled. “Exactly. It turns out, red lyrium is a bit more dangerous than we anticipated,” she frowned. “It’s not filtering down to the lower classes because whoever is bringing it in does not need poor people. Red lyrium is more than a drug, it’s like a disease. You have to bring the full resources of the guards into stopping this, just as you did with the blue lyrium.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “You could have just told us!”

“You knew it was a threat before we gave you the warehouse.”

“How would you know that?”

“From the way you treated the substance after the explosion that night,” she replied coolly. “We thought the explosion was enough, but apparently, we were wrong. Even though the story broke, no one fears the threat at the gate - they needed to find it inside the house. Someone above is blocking the lyrium from being tracked down. Now you’re on the case, as is Alistair. And I can rest.” She sipped her tea. “I’m not a red jenny any more. I’ve done my part.”

“Do you know how many crimes you have committed?” Cullen grated. 

“None,” she replied, her teacup tinkling on the saucer. 

“Excuse me?” He exclaimed. 

“Can you prove anything?” She asked simply. 

She set down her teacup in the quiet that fell between them. “I know your testimony alone could finger me, but I don’t know if you have enough evidence to prove it beyond doubt. But, if you felt it right, you could speak up.”

“Damn it, Eve!” Cullen growled. “You used me!”

She lowered her eyes. “At first, we needed you,” she admitted. “I didn’t think a few poor people could possibly stop the red lyrium. We needed you and Alistair on the case but you were being blocked at every turn. We kept trying to force the city’s hand to do what’s right. It took us so long to find the right opportunity to give you something solid.” She met his eyes. “So yes, we needed you. That’s how it began, but that’s not how it turned out. It turns out, I needed you.” Her heartbeat was suddenly loud in her ears, and she realized she was getting emotional. She averted her eyes. “And I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I know I’ve broken rules, but I did it to help. If you need to turn me in, I won’t hold it against you. You will do what’s right. You always have.”

Cullen sighed and rose, pacing the parlour. “Andraste preserve me,” he growled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stilled. Drawing a deep breath, he ran his hand over his face. “Maker… Evelyn, you… you robbed houses, you’re implicated in the sabotage of a shipping vessel, you assaulted police officers!” He stared at her. “Why would you do this?”

“Because no one expects it, Cullen,” she said, her head high. “No one expects it of me. No one expects anything of me. But I can fight, I can work the press. I can help. Why should I not take steps when all legal avenues have been blocked. And I would do it again.”

“All this just to prove yourself?”

“To make a difference in the most tangible, personal way possible, because I am not a doll to be bought and sold,” her eyes glittered. “And I may have… lost everything I held dear from this. I have no reason to fight anymore.”

He frowned. “But you said… your sisters…”

She chuckled. “I have no reason to fight anymore,” she said, her smile bright as she met his eyes. “You haven’t drunk your tea, by the way. How dreadfully rude.”

He stared at her, seeming to be at a loss - for words, for what to do. If he did turn her in… she would leave it entirely up to him. He finally settled for, “You stepped on my neck.”

She laughed sheepishly and stood up. Her fingers reached up to touch the curve of his neck, the bruise long faded. “I’m sorry I stepped on your neck, Cullen,” she said contritely. “You did elbow me in the gut. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I was very annoyed to see you there. But that was before I knew you well.”

He frowned at her, then sighed helplessly as he reached out to wrap his arms around her. To her own surprise, she did not stiffen with fear. “Maker help me,” he croaked. “I nearly… I could have killed you! Alistair nearly shot you!”

“Can’t say I’m glad you didn’t, on both counts,” she said. 

He hugged her tighter. “It’s not funny, Evie,” he breathed. 

Evelyn smiled from the bottom of her heart as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. “I know,” she whispered. “No more Red Jennies, Cullen. I’ve done what I need to do, and now it’s time I… grow up.”

 


	25. Honeybee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Suggested listening - Any Other Name - Thomas Newman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHRS4AmtmnU)

It was Cullen’s day off. Evelyn always looked forward to it, keeping most of her day free of appointments. She took effort to comb her hair, she took effort to keep the tears at bay in the night, because she did not want her eyes to be red come the morning. She whiled away the morning reading. Sometimes he came by in the afternoons rather than in the mornings. Afternoon came, and there no word from Cullen. She went to train with her blade. She went to try to make scones, which Mia had made look so easy. Her new cook, however, turned her away at the kitchen door. The man was gruff and huge and Evelyn did not want to argue. She sighed when she looked out the window as the lengthening rays of sunlight. It was late. Where was he?

Perhaps he tired of her. Perhaps this was all a silly little dream. As she looked out the window in her vest and breeches, she held her arms, feeling small, feeling silly. There were always good days and bad days outside of the estate. She had feared she would never be able to survive out in the world, all alone. She nearly didn’t. But he was a lifeline. He guided her when she needed it, he didn’t give her anything, just pointed the way to go. Mia had been such a calming presence - teaching her how to scrutinize her maids, manage schedules, settle budgets for the house, approve weekly menus… It was like running a tiny company. She would never have learned if not for Mia, and she would never have met Mia if not for Cullen. And she would have fallen to pieces in fear if not for his gentle presence. But now… he hadn’t come.

She frowned. “Why?” she murmured. Would he abandon her? Was she too much of a burden? Perhaps he tired of helping her all the time. What did she ever do for him? She bit her lip, worried. Her mind drew back to those honeyed eyes, his sincerity shining like a sun within him. She straightened up. No, he of all people wouldn’t abandon her without a word. She strode to the door and pulled on her black coat over her shoulders, the hem of which fluttered at her booted calves. She grabbed her cane and the first hat from the rack, a top hat. Then, adequately dressed for society, she left her house, making her way to Fort Drakon. 

She caught a public carriage to the fort. The sun was setting when she arrived. She saw the grinning face of Sergeant Blackwall. “Lady Trevelyan,” he said warmly. 

“Sergeant,” she smiled, her mask in place. “Is the Captain here?”

Blackwall blinked. “I’m afraid it’s his day off, my lady,” he said. Evelyn felt her heart shrivel a little at that. “He’s not been in all day.”

She glanced at the setting sun. “Perhaps I could wait in his office?”

Blackwall glanced at the sun as well. “He’s unlikely to come to his office,” he said. 

Evelyn knew he lived in the fort, but asking to wait in his room reeked of scandal. “Down here in the main office then? I would be any trouble.”

Blackwall’s eyebrows raised and he cleared his throat. He was hiding something, the way he kept looking uncomfortably at the sun. “I am afraid we are short handed, and we cannot have a lady waiting here with no proper business. I am afraid I must refuse your request. Perhaps you could return tomorrow? He’ll be in by then.”

Evelyn sighed, swallowing the irritation. “It appears I must,” she said. Except she wouldn’t. She left the guard’s headquarters and made her way out of the gates. This was public land. There was no reason why she couldn’t… wait. 

With all the traffic at the Fort from landing passengers, businesses flocked to the area. She had several options - get the Gryphon and fly to the roof, scale a wall, sneak around the back, maybe? She had her cane and her wits. Then again, she had promised herself to leave those days behind. So she found a cafe looking out onto the street, sat herself down at a wrought iron table and chair, and waited with a hot cup of tea instead.

She bought a paper from a passing paperboy and looked at the words unseeing. It was just something for her hands to do. Maker, what was she doing? He didn’t want to see her, he hadn’t invited her. What was she doing here waiting where she wasn’t wanted? Then again, she was worried. This was odd for him. He would have sent word he wasn’t coming if anything came up. 

She frowned at the words on the paper in front of her. Would he? She was worried for him, but there was a selfish element to this as well. She was being a simpering fool! This was appalling! She took a sip of tea. Then again, so what? She was simpering. She was a mess. And she needed him. 

She set the cup down on the saucer. “Just a while,” she said to herself. “I’ll just wait till nightfall, have some tea. And if… I’ll just wait a while.” She drew a breath, picked up the paper and actually read it while stealing glances at the crowd coming and going. 

The sun set eventually. She read the paper again and ordered another pot of tea. Darkness settled and the lamp-lighters started their rounds, lighting the gas lamps that lined the street with their long delicate poles tipped with candles. Evelyn sat, looking up, watching the crowd. Her tea grew cold while her face grew hot. This was daft. He wasn’t… was she really going to wait here all night? Maybe he was legitimately busy, she was being stupid! She stood up and picked up her cane, striding away as she left her cup of tea and newspaper behind. She walked five steps down the street. Then she turned with a growl and headed back to her seat and sat back down. 

She buried her face in her hands in frustration. “Fuck,” she muttered. She was that sort of girl, pining over a man, needing him like she were some simpleton. Even as she raged at herself for this… weakness, part of her was more honest. She wanted to see him. That was it. She looked forward to his visits every day off like the light of day at the end of the tunnel. And if he didn’t want to see her, he should tell her and not leave her wondering or fearing, hoping she hadn’t lost… The hair at the back of her neck prickled.

She stood up again, holding her cane. “How long are you going to be looking over my shoulder?” She demanded and turned around. She bit back the surprise at seeing Alistair standing behind her. She was expecting some thug or lecher. He was holding his coat hooked on a finger over his shoulder, his other hand in his pocket as he looked at her speculatively. 

“I thought you would have left by now,” he said simply. He looked tired. 

She frowned. “What do you mean?” She asked. “You knew I was here?”

“Blackwall sent word up to us in Cullen’s quarters,” Alistair said. 

So Cullen was in the keep all along! Her cane tapped on the sidewalk fiercely. “He could have just sent word to send me away, told me that he wasn’t visiting,” Evelyn snapped. “That would have been kinder than--”

“It’s not like that,” Alistair said firmly, cutting her off. 

She caught the heavy tone in Alistair’s voice and fell silent. 

“He wanted to come, he started drinking early, he thought he could shake it off by late afternoon, but… I guess he drank too much.” Alistair sighed. 

Evelyn felt the knot of anger unraveling. “What’s wrong?” She asked softly. 

“He’s not in a good state. It took him this long to agree to see you,” Alistair told her. “I’m supposed to bring you up, then leave. I’m not sure if he’ll even open the door, though. He might have changed his mind.”

“What is happening, stop being cryptic,” Evelyn said as she followed Alistair towards the fort. 

Alistair growled and ran his hand through his messy hair. “Maker, the things I do for that man,” he muttered. 

He looked at Evelyn seriously, stopping in his tracks. “Do you know how he got that scar?” He said. “That and all the others - or most of the others on his back?”

Evelyn recalled the angry stripes across his back when she treated him at the sword club. She frowned. “He said a job went wrong,” she replied. “He didn’t want to say more.”

“I’ll give you the condensed version then,” Alistair said. “If he lets you in, hopefully, he will tell you more.”

 

++++++

 

Cullen’s quarters were indeed in the fort. Evelyn knew enough of her history to know that the rooms up on the third and fourth floors were put to more grisly uses in the past, but were now refurbished into rooms for the officers. It was odd that he would choose to stay in the fort. Surely a captain could afford an apartment in the city. But Cullen was the sort who wanted to be as close to work as possible, so he wouldn’t have to waste time travelling. . 

Her heart was heavy as she walked along the corridor, heading to his room. Alistair’s words weighed upon her. Insidiously, a tendril of guilt snaked into her heart, saying, “Why did you not see his pain to heal him in return?” 

She stood before the door and drew a deep breath before knocking. She heard the knock resound in the room beyond. She waited, her heart beating hard in her chest. No one came to the door. This was the right room, surely. She took the handle and tried it. It turned in her grasp. As she stepped in, a growl filled the air and she ducked just as the bottle flew over her head, smashing on the wood of the door, shards raining down on her. A blue liquid dripped down the door, glowing gently before it faded into the wood. Alistair had warned her. She knew what this was. 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen gasped from his cot as Evelyn straightened up. The room he was in was the room of a man who lived to work. A chest at the foot of his single bed, a wardrobe against a wall, swords mounted on the wall and books piled around the room. It had one window that let in grubby moonlight through the dirty glass. The whole room was the size of her lavatory in her estate. The air smelled of alcohol, as if the bottles strewn about weren’t sign enough that he had been drinking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you enter. I--” he croaked as he moved to stand. He staggered. 

Evelyn kicked the door closed and ran to catch his shoulders. She firmly sat him back down on the bed, where he groaned and buried his head in his hands. He was red in the face, clearly drinking. His simple linen undershirt reeked with sweat, his brown pant legs hanging loose over bare feet. His hair was a mess. Evelyn knelt down before him  as he sat on his bed, her heart bleeding for him. It was hard to believe that this was the same Cullen, the same Cullen who chased away her tears, who was her lifeline, who steadied her in the storm behind the mask. His gentle questions and softer lips, his laughter, his blush. It was all gone. Who was this man? It was like she was seeing him for the first time. Even knowing what Alistair told her, seeing Cullen like this… it tore her heart. But now he needed her. No amount of money could solve this. She was alone before him now, just a woman, hoping desperately to do the right thing - to help. “Do you need to talk?” She asked softly, her hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“You don’t have to--” he breathed raggedly. “I didn’t want you to see me like this…”

She ran her hand through his messy hair, slick with sweat. It was a gesture that always comforted her as a child, especially when Ari did it. His hands were shaking, his lips pale despite his ruddy cheeks. “I was worried about you,” she said softly. 

“I couldn’t visit today,” he rasped apologetically as he raised his head to look at her, honeyed eyes haunted and full of… fear? Without thought, she lay a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“Don’t,” he growled, pushing her hand away. “You shouldn’t be with me.”

“If you need me--” she said, her heart in her voice. 

“You don’t even know what I’ve done!” He got off the bed and began to pace. 

“I want to,” Evelyn said softly and pulled off her coat, leaving her cane on the floor. She went to the door and with her coat wrapped around her hand, she started to sweep away whatever glass was on the ground. Cullen was walking barefoot. 

He stared at her. “What are you doing?”

“You’re barefoot,” she said, looking up at him. She chucked her coat over the pile of glass. 

“Why are you doing this?” He growled, a storm of emotions crossing his face. 

She stood up, her face stern even as her heart wept. “Cullen, I care for you,” she said firmly, holding herself together by sheer will. She would not weaken when he needed her. She was no mewling little quim, no little child any more. And if anyone in the world needed her to turn to steel, it was him, right now.

He snorted, sadness in his eyes. “Why would you?” He growled, pacing once more. “This is all a dream, this isn’t real. One day, you’ll wake up--” Evelyn stood still, silent. He was working himself up to speak, and Maker, did he need to speak. He had to be the one to open up to her, Alistair said. And she agreed. She could not take that choice away from Cullen, even if she knew what happened, and how many died because of it. He was breathing faster. “You asked about my scar, didn’t you?” He rasped. “I led a raid. I led men into a Carta den, they were smuggling lyrium - blue lyrium. Somehow… somehow the Carta knew we were coming. They ambushed us. My men - my friends were slaughtered!” His voice was filled with venom, his cheeks colouring further, eyes flashing as he paced. “I tried to save them - I should have died that day, but they kept some of us alive.” He stilled and looked at her, a broken soul peering through honeyed eyes. “I was tortured. Degraded… Along with the others. They gave me lyrium. They forced it into me and it nearly… they nearly broke my mind.” He shook his head and scoffed, heading to his grimy window. 

He set his hand on the wall on either side of the glass and hung his head. The memory came to her sharp and clear, his hands on the wall of the porch behind her, hers wrapped in his wet hair, lips tasting like salt and rain. She was so happy then…  And she had joked about the scar, Maker help her, what a fool she was! She shut her eyes and cringed inwardly. Stupid, stupid Evelyn… “My men died one by one,” he breathed, every word an agony. “I watched all of them die - from the blue, from the beatings, from the... “ His hands clenched into fists, fingers scratching the stone wall. “I can hear their voices still. The Carta wanted to see… how much lyrium it would take to kill someone. But I kept on living despite the doses. They hurt me more to hurry it up, gave me bigger and bigger doses until I… lost all sense of time.” He drew a breath, trying to calm himself. “By the time Alistair led the rescue, I… I don’t know what I was. I needed lyrium, or I kept hearing the voices of my men. I was put on leave for recovery, but I didn’t care, I just… I just needed more lyrium. That’s all I wanted - to chase away the voices. Can’t you see what an absolute failure I was?” 

“But it wasn’t your fault--” Evelyn tried. 

“Don’t!” Cullen growled, stepping away from the window, running his hands over his face. “You should be questioning what I am.”

Evelyn worried her lip, frowning as she crossed her arms. There must be something she could say! It wasn’t his fault! But every year… he went through this every year, still broken, never fully healed. 

“I swore I wouldn’t take any more,” he growled as he paced. “I swore. I wouldn’t let them keep torturing me, hurting me - I swore I wouldn’t take any more! But Andraste, every year I hear their voices - every year!” He tugged at his hair, breathing through his teeth. “These thoughts won’t leave me! How many lives depend on me to lead them, even after… But they keep screaming! Nothing stops them! Only lyrium! Every year the same question - Why?! They need to stop screaming, I need to serve, I need to take it! I should be taking it!” He snarled fiercely then, like a caged animal, and his fist struck his wardrobe so hard it threw a door open, making Evelyn jump. Her eyes were wide as she watched him. Not even when fighting him as Red Jenny… not even then was he so vicious. Just with himself… “I should be taking it...” he whimpered. Her hands balled into fists. 

She walked up to him as he stood with his back to her, head bowed, fist on the door. His shoulders heaved with his breath. Evelyn took off her mask. Gently, she lay a trembling hand on his back, his shirt clinging to his skin with sweat. He shuddered, but did not pull away. They both still belonged to the people who hurt them. They both weren’t free. But he was trying to help her through his pain. Why had she not seen his? She set her forehead on his back, her arms wrapping around his waist. It was not her pain, but Maker, she felt it. It hurt seeing him like this. Like a caged bird… Like Honeybee. “Cullen, my sweet, sweet honeybee,” she whispered, her pain in her voice. “Please, you don’t need lyrium… Just listen to them. You have to just let yourself listen, let yourself be sad. You don’t have to be strong all the time.” 

She heard his angry hiss and the wardrobe door slammed shut as he struck it with his other hand. She hugged him tighter, fearful and aching with his pain. “It’s okay, Cullen,” she whimpered, her tears flowing. She buried her face in his back. “Cullen, I’m here. Put it down, Cullen. You don’t have to wear it all the time! Just listen and then… come back to me… I’ll be here, I’ll always be here!”

He stilled, shuddering in her embrace. Then he started to quiver, and Evelyn heard the sobs swelling from within him, resonating in his chest. Her heart caught in her throat with worry as he sank to the floor, slipping from her arms. She lowered herself with him, kneeling before him as he leaned  back on the wardrobe, curling up like a frightened child. She cried with him, her hand smoothing his sweaty hair. She felt so helpless. She couldn’t take this away from him. He had to put it down. He couldn’t hide behind lyrium every year the date of his capture came. But that was up to him. 

He looked up at her, his face a rictus of pain, streaked with tears. She bit her lip. “It’s okay, Honeybee,” she whispered, smiling despite her own tears. “Just cry, it’s fine. I’m here.”

He shook his head as the sobs racked through him and reached out to her. She wrapped her arms around his head, holding him as he clung to her, letting his sobs roll over her as she tried to stay strong in the storm. He had to put it down, and she had to be there to pick him up. She would be. He was her one good choice. Her Honeybee.  

 

 


	26. Bastard

Alistair walked up and down before the museum waiting for her. It became a habit of him. Waiting for Solona. He had never waited for anybody, if a girl was late he just left it did not matter, there was always another. They never worth the effort. But those two green doe-eyes, they would worth all time of the world.

He anxiously opened and closed his watch like it could draw her closer to him. After those desperate kisses in that gazebo, he made her promise that they meet again and he eagerly awaited the moment but now as he stood before the impressive building of the _Museum of Fereldan History_ he became jumpy. She was late.

 _What if she won’t come?_ The question pounded in his head. _What the hell she did with him?_

He wanted to impress her, but how a man like him could impress a smart girl like her? He had been thinking about it for days, he trashed in his bed sleeplessly, sat over the crime reports, poked his food without eating a single bite and tried to figure out something.

She wasn’t an arty type of girl. If only she was. They could stare the paintings of naked women at the _Museum of Fine Arts_ , he could tell some hastily fabricated stories about the painters and pictures and she would just gaze him with misty eyes and would drink his every word. But Solona wasn’t a mindless girl who would believe any of his nonsenses.

The _Museum of Natural History_ was out of the question. That was her expertise. Solona knew way more about physics, chemistry even biology than he could learn in a lifetime. He could just make a complete idiot of himself there. Not the best way to impress a girl who was smarter than him.

This seemed the most logical choice. Alistair perused tons of history books, tried to memorize the names, places and dates. But like a strainer as soon as he turned a page he immediately forgot everything he had read before. But he tried and tried again adamantly until he fell asleep in his office over the giant tome of early Andrastrian history.

He almost slept over. He woke up at his desk, his neck sore by the uncomfortable sleep. There was no time to change his attire or even shave. He waited for her with shaggy hair and two-day stubble, his clothes rumpled and unwashed. The only thing he could do to sprinkle some cologne on himself and buy some peppermint on the market on his way to the museum to help to take away the bitter taste of cigarette and coffee in his mouth.

A whore or a lewd girl, a quick fuck never worth the effort and he never really cared anyway. But now as he saw her looming up through the white smoke of his cigarette it felt wrong. He should have waited for her in clean clothes, freshly shaved with neatly combed hair like a fucking dandy. She deserved no lesser.

She wore a fascinatingly plain green dress, her canvas bag as always with her, supposedly filled with books and instruments. Her eyes on the ground, her nervously moving hands smoothed those unruly locks behind her ears and then pulled the glasses up on her nose. She did not wear corset or make-up or anything that create a false illusion. Everything on her was beautifully real.

“I-I’m sorry. My experiment… I couldn’t leave it there… I was a middle of it…” she apologized anxiously as reached him avoiding his eyes, her hands tightly around the band of her bag.

Alistair loosened one of her hands and exhaled a light kiss on it. “You don’t need to apologize. I just arrived,” he lied. Solona’s pale cheeks slowly turned to rose as he held her hand entangling his fingers with hers. She still did not look at him, just nervously tried to find a spot to lay her eyes on it. Alistair dropped his cigarette trampled on the cobblestone and with his other hand gently took her chin and drew her glance on him.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t bite.” he whispered as leaned to her ear.

“A-are you sure?” she whispered back.

“Well, maybe a bit.” and he brushed his lips over hers, demanding it softly. She let it, responded it, so the other day in the gazebo wasn’t a dream. He tightened his fingers around hers, wanted to deepen it but before he could she withdrew her head, her face more pink by the heat.

“We should go in,” she breathed.

 

++++++  
  
   
  
The halls and rooms of the museum were almost silent. The only sound that could be heard was the tick-tacking of the visitors' shoes on the marble floor. Sometimes, an indiscernible whisper would break the silence. Solona and Alistair walked beside each other without a word, sometimes they stopped by a glass exhibition case and observed the items in it. Alistair really wanted to tell smart and witty things to her but literally nothing came into his mind except trite phrases.

Then they stopped by a richly adorned sword, what he recognized. That blade was the last illustration in the history book what he saw before the heavy sleep reached him.

“This is the…” he tried to recall what he read. “Glan… Glen…Glin…”

“Glandivalis,” Solona took the word from him. “According to the legend, Andraste gave this to Shartan after named him as her Champion.”

“Is there _anything_ in this world that you don’t know?” Alistair dusgruntled, feeling annihilated. He so wanted to impress her, showing he is worthy for her attention. But the only thing he could achieve that he seemed more idiot than he had already been.

“It’s on the plaque,” she answered pointing to the golden plate next to the showcase.

“Ahh…” Alistair pursed his eyes. _How could he be such a moron?_ Of course, everything was on the plaques for the visitors but he was too nervous or just stupid to take a look at them. “Shit…” he cursed in low voice, but loud enough to draw her attention to him. She raised her eyebrows and giggled softly, biting her lower lip as turned on her heels and went to the next showcase. Alistair chuckled as went after her.

After dozens of rooms filled with weapons, shields and crests they arrived at a room full of busts. He was silent all the way long. It was the best way to not make his situation worse. Like it was the mirror of their first date, where a timid read-haired girl poured a cup of tea with trembling hands, searching for her smart words. Now he was the one who needed these weapons, but they stuck in him and he just stood in the middle of a giant museum like a fool. And as she looked into her sparkling green eyes, suddenly they did not seem so frightened.

Alistair faltered for a moment as reached the sign over the Arch. _‘The Monarchs of Ferelden’_. Solona noticing it turned back to him. Her glance turned to questioning as he stared the golden letters petrified.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, closing the gap, between them. “You look… distressed.”

Alistair shook his head and smiled at her, taking her hand.

They walked among the old busts, hand in hand, entangling their fingers. They passed beside the great kings. Calenhad, Maric, Cailan… and suddenly Solona stopped, fixating her eyes on the statue before her.

“King Alistair I,” she read out loud. “Also known as the Bastard King.” Somehow the air of the huge hall became thick and Alistair felt as the cold sweat beaded on his forehead as looked through the statue.

“King Alistair, a former Grey Warden, who as the illegitimate son of King Maric, after King Cailan’s tragic death at the battle of Ostagar as the last member of the royal family took the throne…”

“History is fascinating, isn’t it?” Alistair snickered anxiously and he tried to draw her away from the bust but Solona’s legs did not move. She looked on Alistair then on the bust and back again.

“He looks _exactly_ like you,” she switched her inquiring eyes between him and the statue. “Why does he looks exactly like you?”

“It’s just a coincidence. Many people look like me,” he tried to draw her away, but he yanked his holding hand to her and examined his face then the statue again. And suddenly her eyes became big and her mouth fell open.

“No way…” she heaved.

Alistair sighed in resignation. “Look,” he began uncertainly. “I have to tell you something, but promise me you won’t freak out.” Solona nodded, her lips still parted.

“I’m a bastard… a royal bastard. My father… he is the King.” At first, she just stared him breathlessly then her hand released his and he took some steps back, her breath quickening,

“WHAT?” she exclaimed so loud the whole hall echoed her voice back. “You are an heir to the _throne_?”

Alistair closed the gap again. “Could you be quieter?” he hissed. “And I’m not. It’s not going to happen. I’m nothing more but an accident. An inconvenience. I just came out from the wrong penis, as it were.”

Solona smacked him on his shoulder. “Don’t use that word,” she yelled, her cheeks turning to red in embarrassment.

“What? Penis?” Solona nodded angrily as became redder if it was possible. “But it’s a medical term. Then what should I say? What would be proper? Winkie? Ding-a-ling? Tell me!” now he was yelling too.

“Just don’t use it at all, okay?” she took a scolding glare on him. “I can’t believe it. You are part of the royal family. You are part of the aristocracy.”

“I’m a commoner, okay? It’s nothing, really. You promised me you wouldn’t freak out.”

“How can you expect from me…” Solona yelled

"Hey-“ the caretaker reprimanded as with angry steps reached them. “It is a museum. If you can’t stay silent-“  
   
“Go away!” Solona cried at him and the air froze around them.

“Miss, the policy of the museum-“

“I said, _go away_!” she yelled again.

“I'll bring the director,“ the caretaker hissed as stomped away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, tears gathering her eyes.

“Because it’s nothing, it does not matter. I did not want you to see me the ways now you do. I wanted you to know me, not the badge they put on me,” he gently propped her chin drawing her glance on him, wiping away her flowing tears. “Tell me, would you have spoken to me if you had known?” She opened her mouth for an answer but changed her mind and remained silent. Alistair knew the answer. Of course not.

“But still…” she whispered, Alistair took is index finger before her mouth to silence her.

“These are just empty titles Solona, they mean nothing. They are not better because people call them _‘Your Majesty’_ or _‘Your Highness’_ as you and I won’t be lesser without it. These are just empty words,” he brushed his finger through her lips. “A word can't define us. I couldn’t find enough word in this whole universe to describe you. I just know you are unique and inimitable.” And he kissed her with a fevered kiss. He felt her twitch and sharp breath as they lips collided. He drew her closer to him gently grabbing the base of her neck.

Every time when he kissed her it was like the first time. Her gentle timidity as responded to his touch, the sweetness of her lips. Everything was like a fucking miracle. And he knew how stupidly, how sentimentally it sounded.

“Sir, my Lady-“ he heard a stern voice, causing her to shift away. A neatly groomed man in a suit and the caretaker came. “You have violated-“ he began his long speech about proper behavior and respect for history. They listened it through with their eyes casting to the ground and when he finally stopped they walked out from the museum in silence.

 

+++++++++

 

The two sat at the two side of the gazebo, Alistair was smoking his cigarette, Solona was sitting on the stone bench watching the budding roses. They stole glances at each other but none of them could find the proper words.

“You should have told me, I would have understood,” she said lastly, her voice not louder than a whisper. Alistair snapped his face to her. She was with her back to him, watching the butterflies and bees on the rose bushes.

“And what was I supposed to tell you, Solona?” Alistair burst out as exhaled the smoke. “That, hello, I’m Alistair, a detective of the Yard… oh and a _royal bastard_? And _when_? When we met here for the first time? Or in the teahouse where you left me without explanation? Or when you sent me away?” He took some uncertain steps to her. “I wouldn't want that. I was going to tell you, later on. This wasn't the way I would have liked you to... find out.”

“If you wanted to keep this in secret why did you bring me to a _history_ museum?” Solona asked as turned to him.

“It will sound incredibly stupid but I wanted to impress you.”

“It is really unnecessary…” Solona shifted on the bench uncomfortably, casting her eyes down.

“Well, I apparently failed anyway. Who knew the Bastard King had my face. I mean I knew my mother gave my name on purpose to remind them of their roots,” he chuckled bitterly. “She was always so poetic. Poor sod, he had my wonky eyes. Being part of this family sucks.”

Solona giggled as stood up and walked to him, cupping his cheek and brushing his finger across his scar. “I like your wonky eyes.” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss on his nose.  
   
“Then let’s talk about this, shall we?” he chuckled and kissed her.

“Does this thing change anything, Solona?” he asked as they parted.

Her lips turned to a mischievous smile. “Depends. Do I need to go to luxurious balls, wear a corset and fancy things like those nobles at the Court?”

Alistair chuckled. “Absolutely not.”  
   
“Then nothing.” and she grabbed the lapel of his coat and drew him to her for a fevered kiss.


	27. The Dawn Will Come

It was much later in the night, when his storm of weeping had passed. Evelyn got him to his bed where he curled up into the sunken pit of his mattress. She wiped the tears from her face and sniffed. She had to help him. He hadn’t asked for more lyrium during the weeping. That was good. She had heard about the blue, and how it sang. It was odd that she wasn’t hearing the song. 

Making sure to walk quietly and wake no one, Evelyn found the common bathroom on the floor and a bucket. She managed to haul it over to Cullen’s room. As she walked in the corridor, she came across Blackwall coming the other way. The huge man stopped and raised one bushy eyebrow, he bristles of his beard twitching as he tried to contain a smile. Evelyn flashed him a winsome smile and walked right past him into Cullen’s room, shutting the door firmly behind her. She winced in the privacy of the room. Cullen had some explaining to do to his men tomorrow. She was sure women weren’t allowed in the barracks, or something. Right? She set the bucket down by his bed. He was still sleeping, eyes rimmed with red, cheeks ruddy, hair wet with sweat. She bit her lip. Should she just leave him? It surely wasn’t comfortable to sleep like that. After such a day, she wanted him to be comfortable.

She knelt down by the bed and shook him slightly. “Cullen?” She called softly. His brow furrowed though his eyes remained closed. “Cullen, I have some water if you want to wash up,” she said. “Would you like to?”

He nuzzled his face into the pillow, his arm curling over his eyes. That was that. Evelyn stood up and wondered if she should leave. It didn’t feel right leaving him like this. Perhaps she’d keep watch over him in the night, and sneak out in the morning before he got in trouble. 

 

+++++

 

Cullen blinked awake and winced, covering his eyes with his hand, blocking out the sunlight. His head felt like it was splitting down the middle, and his stomach was queasy. His felt disgusted by the dried sweat on his own skin and his hair felt filthy. Maker… it was never easy waking up after a day like yesterday. Every year. Every year, when this day crept around, he would hear the voices screaming in his head, his thoughts would return to that cave, that cage, the echoing trapping all the pain within. He would feel the shaking, the tremors, the escape. Alistair was always there to swat the blue out of his hand if he failed to resist. Cullen never knew where he got the lyrium from. His mind always blocking it out. But every year, it would be in his hand.  But it was different this time. 

He uncovered his eyes and saw her there, seated on the floor beside his bed, wrapped in his spare blanket, her head resting on his mattress. He shut his eyes, trying to dispel the shame that rose within him. That she had to see him like this… And yet, there she was. She’d stayed by him. That thought filled him with a strange sense of effervescence. And yet she slept on the floor. That wasn’t right. He sat up and tried not to groan as his head split. He smoothed out his bed a little, flipped his pillow over and then, taking care not to wake her, he lifted her onto the bed. She snorted and rolled over, bundling under her blanket. 

Cullen leaned over her, his knuckles resting on the edge of his mattress as he looked down at him, his smile soft despite his bleary eyes. He thought she wasn’t real, he braced for the day she would wake up, realize she was worth more, and leave him. He was only a guard, a farm boy. No one. And yet… there she was. He touched her hair gently, his lips brushing her hair. It was all he dared do. Then, he took his towel and silently left the room to clean himself. 

After a bath that rejuvenated him, he headed back to his room, carrying the bundle of dirty clothes in his hand, his towel around his waist. There was noise from below, the station already awake. The thought of getting to work turned his stomach. A day of leave wouldn’t be remiss.  Evie was still on his bed in his room, bundled under her blanket. She had turned onto her other side. He shut and locked his door, then went to his wardrobe. With his back to her, he ignored the two marks on the wood, and opened his wardrobe. With the towel around his waist, he pulled on his underclothes. Then he bent to put on his breeches, slipping his feet into the legs and drawing it over his waist. He heard the heavy breathing from the bed and smiled faintly. The same heavy breathing he had heard at the sword club. “You’re looking,” he said, without turning around.

“I’m not! I’m asleep!” Evelyn snapped. “Fuck!” he heard the muttered swear, muffled from under the cloth of his blanket. 

He snorted and straightened up, pulling the towel off his waist and setting it on his chest ot dry. Evelyn was huddled under her blanket. He walked to the bed, leaned on his knuckle and pulled the blanket back from her head. She looked up at him, glaring at him despite the flush in her cheeks. “Pardon me, I thought you were asleep,” he smirked. 

She stuck her tongue out at him and sat up, smoothing down her hair. Her face was pale from improper sleep, her eyes dark-rimmed. Cullen looked no better. She sighed in resignation as he sat down on the edge of the bed. His heart beat a little faster as he anxiously rubbed his hands together. The words were there, all he had to do was… get them out. But that was harder than he realized. “Are you feeling alright?” She asked him.

He smiled at her as she hugged one knee, watching him with her chin resting on her kneecap. “I am,” he said. “I should thank you. I wasn’t expecting--” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Hone-- Cullen,” she said, and the red in her cheeks deepened a little. “It was no trouble. I’m just-- I’m happy you’re feeling better.”

He looked at her. “You called me that last night,” he said. “Honeybee.”

She startled and looked aside, her blue eyes wide as she shifted uncomfortably. “S-sorry, I got carried away, and I don’t--” her words tumbled over each other. She scratched her cheek, blushing and looking aside. 

“I like it,” he assured her. 

She turned those huge eyes to him again, like beacons in the storm. Then she smiled faintly. “Good,” she whispered. “With everything, I was worried…”

He reached out and touched her face, her head tilting into his touch. They were so close, he could feel the warmth from her skin. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmured. 

“You can let me worry about you a little,” she smiled. And there were her lips, so close to his. She drew him in like a moth to a flame, and he loved every moment of it. He loved being with her. And here she was, even after seeing him at his worst. Suddenly, the thought that she would one day realize she was worth more than him frightened him. His stomach twisted. “I don’t know... what happens now,” he said, pulling away from her. “I-I mean, you are a noble, you have prospects. But I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to move on--” He felt the knot of anxiety twist inside him and he looked away, his hand balling into a tense fist, his thoughts and words tumbling over each other into incomprehensibility. “T-that is if you even-- I don’t know what you-- Uh--” He turned away, feeling himself curl up inside. What was he asking her? After last night, he had the gall to even bring this up?

She reached out to him then and turned his face towards her. “Honeybee,” she smiled. “That is one thing I don’t want you to worry about. If I chose one thing right in this life so far, it’s you.”

His smile returned, as did the warmth her words brought to him. It must have showed, because her eyes softened at the sight of him, and she leaned forward to nuzzle her forehead against his, smoothing the furrow of his brow with hers. He chuckled softly. “You are…” He sighed. There were no words sufficient for what he felt. “I have never felt anything like this.”

Her fingers touched his cheek, touching the stubble of his chin, began to tremble slightly. “I… love you,” she whispered. “You know that, right?” 

His eyes met hers, his own full of silent surprise. She loved him. She  _ loved _ him. Even after last night, even after she knew everything, after he came apart before her… she loved  _ him _ . And yet there was this uncertainty in her eyes, a fear that he might cast her and her words aside.  _ She _ was afraid he would turn her away? After everything she’d been through, he could only imagine how hard it was for her to say. But there it was.  _ She loved him _ . Andraste… if this was a dream, he did not want to wake up. “I love you too,” he whispered, his lips curling in a slightly bemused smile. 

He drew a breath and touched her lips lightly with his, she trembled but did not pull away. As she leaned into the kiss, the trembling stopped, her arms snaking around his neck, the kiss deepening. His hand cradled her head and neck, the other sinking the mattress by her hip as he leaned over her small frame, his body stirring, the headache forgotten at the touch of her tongue against his. Her folded leg rested on his thigh, the other caressing his side, setting his loins aflame. He pulled away a moment, breathless. “Evie,” he breathed. “Is this-- Is this alright?”

A strange look of gratitude and affection crossed her face. “I want this to happen,” she breathed. “I’ve thought of little else.”

He smiled then, pleased that he wasn’t alone in that regard. He leaned over and lowered her onto the bed, her dark hair spilling out over his pillow. His lips found hers once more as the morning passed, with their muffled moans and stifled gasps, their two broken souls becoming one.

 

 


	28. Blessed be the Maker

_They had come, kicked in the door to the clinic. Someone had noticed the missing men. Maybe Solona had told, she had betrayed him before. It didn't matter what, they came anyway._

 

_And Solas had stood slowly, lift his hands to the air. He didn't hear what they shouted at him, didn't even notice the one officer that pulled back the blanket covering Edvard and retched. He just stood, long hands up, as they began to confiscate his things, his tools, his research._

 

_They had put him in a cell, away from the other riff-raf. He was thankful, at least, for that. Solas did not look at the officer when he locked the cell door, or closed the outer door to the small room, shutting him in total darkness. And he did not look when, after days, someone new entered. It was only the sound of the voice, condescending and wet, that the person even picked at his interest._

 

_"It would appear you have found yourself in quite a bit of trouble, boy."_

 

_Solas raised only his eyes to Alexius, looking far more like a corpse than a person. Alexius grinned brightly. "Did you know they were going to execute you? Publicly? You should read the headlines in the newspapers, they are absolutely entertaining. Prodigal Doctor Skins Babe. Mad Physician Carves Apart Toddler!  Four Missing Found - Used in Madman Experiments" Alexius' grin widened. "You are a very lucky man."_

 

_Solas glared at him. He'd of killed him with his bare hands, choked him, though he hadn't the strength to even stand._

 

_"You are lucky to have friends in high places, boy. Friends who can stop the presses before these ghastly rumors are released to the wild. Should those... tales reach that poor boy's mother... I cannot imagine it would be pretty. I can't imagine that would end well."_

 

_Solas' face fell, for only a second, revealing a desperate vulnerability. "She... doesn't know?"_

 

_Alexius spoke over him, loudly, for emphasis. " Friends who have the means to change the tides of fate."_

 

_"You are no friend of mine." Solas spat._

 

_"I would reconsider that, if I were you. You are a smart man, Solas. Money may not be able to buy me any decency, but it sure buys a lot else. Like your worthless life. And the sanity of the woman you value above all else. You have been excused, Solas, and the details of your arrest eradicated, knocked down to the studs. ...With a few stipulations. You have been officially banned from any form of medical practice."_

 

_"Why would you..."_

 

_Alexius pat him on the shoulder, hard. And when he drew his hand away, he wiped it on a handkerchief with a look of disgust. "Do you know where my wealth comes from?" Solas' blue eyes burned with hate, all that was left in him._

 

_"I make good investments."_

 

 

 

 

 

The chantry was empty. Darkness filled it, kept at bay by meagre tallow candles that sputtered their  pathetic halos of light. There was always the smell of incense here, incense and something else. Something that arose only when darkness fell. Alexius loved it. He loved every inch of this place. It smelled like blood. He walked up to the figure at the altar, bent in prayer - what a joke. Alexius took care not to let his gray coat touch anything.

 

“Let blade pass through flesh, let my blood touch the ground!” Alexius intoned, his voice echoing in the empty Chantry in mockery as he approached the altar, the statue of Andraste rising above them. “Let my cries pierce their hearts! Let mine be the last sacrifice!” He brought his hands up, mimicking the statue’s supplication to the Maker. He laughed then. “I wonder what Andraste feels about being in a cesspit smelling of blood.”

 

“You disapprove?” Solas asked, raising himself from his knees. His voice was cold and clipped, bearing no affection for Alexius.

 

“Oh hardly,” Alexius chuckled. “I find it fascinating. I tore a girl once in my... Youthful vigour. The smell of her blood and sex was fascinating. Ruined, of course, by her simpering. It was just fingers, no need to be dramatic.” He adjusted the button on his silken glove. Solas smirked. "Ah, yes. You always did have a way with women." 

 

“How goes your quest for the secrets of the Maker, my dear Father Solas?” Alexius smiled.

 

“Far better than your lip,” Solas said.

 

Alexius sighed and touched the stitching at his lip. “Sadly, it is about this matter that I have come to seek your divine guidance.” He said. “I require someone… dependent on me. Bound. For a long time. Perhaps a year or three before she can be conveniently removed.” He smiled. “I remember your studies with the homeless man. Is he still alive? Last I saw him, he was… sparkling with red.”

 

Solas glanced at him. “He has passed to the Maker’s hands, unfortunately. May he have mercy on his soul.”

 

“I wondered why you didn’t need more red lyrium,” Alexius chuckled. "It's been a while."

 

“I need nothing from you." Solas assumed he had been bluffing about tearing the girl, trying to catch him off guard. He should have known better.  "This person you need bound…”

 

“Oh you are smarter than _that_ ,” Alexius sighed sadly. “My dear Evie… sadly lost her way and was swept up by the arms of an opportunist commoner. But she’s so infantile she goes along with it. I would like to help set her on the good and proper path, Father. Perhaps I need a leash for the bitch?”

 

Solas’s eyes hardened like shards of the winter sky. “I am not going to do anything to--”

 

“Father!” Alexius exclaimed. “Heaven forbid! I would never ask that of you! To sully _your_ holy hands would be blasphemy!” He chuckled then. “No, I would like information instead. How much red lyrium would a person need to take to be addicted and kept in a stupor? And similarly… when my shipment was sabotaged, there were spires of red lyrium all around. Exploded. Is the substance reactive? I may have use for it then.”

 

“You want me to tell you how to create a mindless addict... and you want me to tell you if it's combustible? These are suspicious questions, Alexius. You would like to create a zombie, for all intents and purposes, and an explosion?” Solas asked. 

 

“Not at the same time. And certainly not to the same person.”

 

“No, of course not.”

 

Alexius smiled at that. “A pity, Father. After all the help I gave you in your child’s hour of need. Is that why you haven't contacted me for more? You've been harvesting it from him? After all these years? How much can one even collect from such a tiny body?" 

 

Is is that what they thought? Even him? That he had done anything to his son other than make a desperate attempt to keep him alive? Alexius had provided the raw materials. Solas had tested Solona's hypothesis on the vagrant man dying of tuberculosis-- but he had done so with his permission. Indeed, it kept him alive when he should have died. But Solas didn't have time to see what came next. He assumed he'd be able to resolve whatever issues arose after the fact. He had been very, very wrong. 

 

He found it interesting that people tried to hurt and manipulate him with their assumptions of his wickedness. The truth, that he had tried, and failed, out of love was more painful than anything they could conjure. 

 

Solas shrugged, played along. Nobody could hurt him with his choices, the past that haunt him. That was his own domain. "Apparently, enough."

 

"And then there is the whole business of them not taking your head off. I paid a considerable sum to resolve all that unpleasantness and you _do_ owe me for that, Father, a debt yet to be paid. And... for you to turn me away from the _Maker’s_ help in my moment of requirement. Alas indeed.” He sighed. “Ah well, there is more than one way to skin a cat. I suppose I could always implicate Eviethrough her involvement with certain questionable members of the clergy... via her dear lady in waiting… You know how that would go. Evie is a well known, well respected, highly regarded upstanding member of elite society. She just happens to have a soft spot in her heart for lesser things... like whores with tragic pasts. And she is _so_ easily influenced. Good thing whores are easy to come by-- quite _disposable_ , wouldn't you say? You do have to admit, that would be a fascinating sight when they hung her-- she'd flutter about in the breeze, so pale... like a ghost. Isn't that what they used to call her? "Spook?" A fitting, ironic end. The public loves scandal. Even old ones. Your whore can finally know the whole story, right before she dies." He tapped his chin, thoughtful. "I imagine that she'd like that, if she knew your secrets, Father. To die. Maybe she'd do it herself, save the hangman an hour."  

 

The priest stared at him, the crack in his calm enough for Alexius to take notice. " Personally, I prefer not beating around the bush.” He looked up at Solas mournfully. “Are you _sure_ you cannot help me, Father?”

  
Solas glared. And Alexius smiled.

 

“I knew you’d see it my way.”


	29. Firsts

Solona placed the vial over the Bunsen burner and watched as the yellow sulfur slowly turned to orange and then red. And without realizing she hummed a lullaby and giggled. She often did this since their date at the museum. The others who worked with her in the laboratory often expressed their astonishment or annoyance of her strange behavior.

But she couldn’t help it. When she was with Alistair everything else seemed so unimportant. Her argument with Evie, the Red Jennies, and the unsigned contract that still laid on her drawing desk, her studies. Alistair made the world a brighter place where she mattered. And for him, she slowly believed everything.

“Miss Amell-“ a voice penetrated into the mist of her daydream. “MISS AMELL!” the voice pulled her back to the laboratory of the campus. She looked up at the stern face of her professor. “You have burned the sulfur,” he stated dryly beckoning on the vial she held.

Solona looked down and saw the pitch-black substance stinking like rotten egg. She slowly put down the vial and casted a penitent glance on her professor. “I’m sorry, Professor Avernus, It won’t happen again,” she muttered her apology.

“This is the _fifth time_ this week, Miss Amell,” the professor scolded her. “You were my best student, always precise and dedicated. And now you act like a goose, geese who fantasizes about silly things,” he propped his hands on the work bench just before her. “Your situation is very precarious. The Dean needs only a tiny reason to take your scholarship away. And believe me, he won’t hesitate. It is enough embarrassment for him to have a woman here. A woman who outshines the others here. Do you realize how scandalous this is?” he raised his voice.

“It won’t happen again,” Solona promised once again but this did not soften her professor’s expression.

“Shouldn’t you be at your Applied Physics lecture? Or you aren’t interested in aerodynamics anymore?” Solona looked up on the clock and heard the bell calling for a lecture.

“Of course I am, Professor,” she muttered as took her books and headed to the exit.

“Solona,” Avernus cried after her making her look back on him. “You can’t change ideas in one day that are indoctrinated in people for centuries, maybe a lifetime isn’t enough for this. But people like you form the world invisibly. Don’t underestimate your importance and never take it lightly.”

“Understood, Professor.” Solona nodded obediently as the sermon ended and exited the laboratory.

Solona took her steps hastily, however, she had no mood for lectures, for the whole place. She had the mood for two hazel eyes and a husky voice whispering things into her ears, chapped lips brushed to hers or sitting in a gazebo surrounded by rosebushes, and reading while two protecting arms embracing her.

She never noticed how beautiful Ferelden was when the spring turned to summer. She never noticed the smells of the blossoming flowers or the smooth caress of the sun on her skin. The world only existed in formulas and calculations, giving her steady walls against the dread weight of her mistakes and now her whole well-built world began to evaporate brick by brick.

She shook her head to make herself return to the reality. Why everything that she worked for seemed to be so unimportant now? She did not want acknowledgment, friendship so desperately anymore. And those cruel words what Solas once dropped to her head slowly faded away like never happened. She had Alistair, she needed him…

She grunted as shook her head again. These were silly things to think about but she wasn’t a silly girl who has daydreams. And still she could do nothing but smile when her eyes wandered to the smoking figure on the railing, the exact point he always waited for her. Every single day. Nobody ever waited for her. Nobody ever told her she was unique and inimitable or at least not the way she would believe it. Nobody ever kissed her and made her heart pounding in her chest so much that it hurt.

“Alistair,” she whispered as her lips turned to a soft smile. He sipped once more from his cigarette before doused it on the stone railing. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

He jumped up and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’m abducting you,” and grabbed her hand pulling her to the gate.

Solona stopped. “Alistair, I can’t… I have a lecture.”

“Oh, come on,” he snorted. “What can these old men tell you that you don’t know already? Come on, I want to show you my favorite place. And you should eat something too. I bet you haven’t eaten a single bite again.”

Solona pursed her lips. It was true. Alistair began to know her too well. “Where is this place exactly?” she asked suspiciously.

“Not far from here. It is called King’s Crown.“ Solona froze. The students often went there to relax a bit. She knew exactly what that place was.

“I-I-It’s a _dive bar_ ,” she muttered. Alistair raised his eyebrows.

“Is that a problem, Solona?” he asked. “They have moderately delicious food. You will like it, I promise.”

“I-I never drink alcohol,” she casted down her eyes like it was a shame.

“Never?” she shook her head.

“Alcohol is deteriorative on cerebration,” she muttered. Alistair chuckled as closed the distance between them and exhaled a kiss on the tip of her freckled nose.

“It is time for you to develop some bad habits,” he whispered into her ears.

She heard the second bell calling her for a lecture and her rational part knew she should say no and go into the auditorium. But everything else in her wanted to escape with Alistair wherever he wanted to drag her. She uncertainly nodded.

 

++++++++

 

The King’s Crown was a regular dive bar, it oozed the stink of alcohol, and the worn wooden floor was sticky by grime. There was nothing that made Solona comfortable. The place was dirty, she felt the piercing glare of the rowdies who drank their cheap drink and belched as they brought it down. Alistair’s arm was on her shoulder protectively signaling to whom she belonged.

“Ah, Alistair,” the bartender greeted him. “The regular?” Alistair nodded. “And for the Lady?”

“I’m not a lady,” Solona murmured.

“You and Cullen brighten up this place for sure. He brought a pretty petite one in fancy dress recently.”

 _Evie._ Solona realized. And she pictured him as sit in one of these boxes, drinking the pints of beer and giggling sweetly on whatever Cullen said. And this sweet image made her smile. Evelyn really loved him and it felt so wrong for rubbing her obligations under her nose.

“You could bring more beautiful ladies. It would increase the turnover,” the bartender guffawed.

“I’m not a _lady_ ,” Solona said again, this time, louder.

Alistair laughed as tightened his fingers around her shoulder. “Don’t you see, Georgie? She isn’t a lady. She is an _umbrella,_ ” Solona took a sharp glare on him making him laugh harder as pressed a kiss on her temple. “Relax, Solona!” he whispered into her ears. “They won’t bite.”

“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly.

“Well, if they try, I’ll make sure that they won’t use their ding-a-ling ever again.” Solona smacked him in shoulder feeling the heat of embarrassment creeps across her cheeks.

“Don’t use that word.” she yelled, louder than she should drawing unwanted attention on them.

“Okay, okay, I forgot how spotless your soul is,” he snickered. “Bring us some cheese and ham, Georgie,” he yelled to the bartender. “What would you like to drink?” Alistair asked her.

“Some tea or mineral water.” Alistair snorted what turned to a laugh. “Bring some Dragon’s blood for my ‘ _umbrella_ ’,” Solona pursed her lips as Alistair led her to his regular box.

“Are you mocking me?” Solona asked peevishly as sat down. Alistair smiled as lit a cigarette.

“Hardly,” his voice filled with amusement. “I just can’t get enough of your innocence.”

She pursed her lips again as the bartender arrived with the orders. He took a pint of beer before Alistair and a slender glass filled with burgundy colored drink. Solona sniffed it, felt the rich scent of it.

“What is this?” she asked cautiously.

“Red wine,” Alistair answered as took a deep sip on his cigarette. “Come on, try it. You will like it. And it is beneficial. Red wine helps blood circulation.” Solona cast a doubtful glance on him.

“Really?” she scoffed “Since when you are such an expert in human physiology?”

“Since your brother told me that.” Alistair riposted. Solona looked away and bit her lips. “We talked about you recently.” 

“Oh?” Solona snapped her head as lifted the glass to her mouth.

“He called you Sol.”

“My friends and family call me Sol,” Solona said as sipped from the glass feeling as the rich wine spreads heat all over her body.

“Can I call you like this?” Alistair asked wistfully as grabbed her free hand pressing a kiss on her palm. 

Solona smiled and nodded as brought rest of the wine down feeling as it brings almost bursting heat and makes her head dizzy.

 

++++++++

 

“Ohh, here is another fun fact about alcohol,” Solona snickered, her speech a bit slurred, the ground beneath her feet unsteady, and the world became blurry and somehow more colorful. “Under the influence of alcohol the blood supply in your organ of copu…” she hiccupped a one, ”copu… in your ding –a-ling…” she began to giggle as the word left her mouth and her alcohol heated cheeks became redder” …decreases in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol consumed. And it has a negative effect on potency.”

“Really?” Alistair chuckled as caught her from falling backward. “I never noticed.”

They walked among the same looking warehouses. Alistair insisted on taking her home, telling she was not in the state to walk through the city alone after dusk. Sol did not understand what he was talking about. She only drank two glasses of wine and she was perfectly aware of where she was or what she was doing. Well, more or less.

“Ohh, here is another one…” she snickered but before he could continue Alistair silenced her with a kiss.

“I think I came to know more about alcohol than I have ever wanted.” he breathed into her mouth amusedly as they parted.

Solona looked on the white door and the terracotta bricks of the warehouse. She was at home but she didn’t want to go in. She wanted to stay in Alistair’s arms feeling herself in safe under the dim light of the oil lamp.

“I live here,” she said, at last, Alistair raised his eyebrows.

“In a warehouse?”

“It’s my labora… labor-” she hiccupped again. “My lab. I have a bedroom over it.” She cast down her glance, her cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment. “Would you like to come in? I have… tea.”

Alistair chuckled. “I can… to make sure you get into bed.” Solona giggled like a silly little girl as opened the door led to the corridor. She heard as Alistair’s steps slow behind her, the clicking sound of a lighter.

"Wait, I've been there before," Solona heard and suddenly she sobered up. She reached the door of her laboratory but she did not open it. Just learned on it raising her frightened eyes on him. Her heart in her throat.

Alistair swept his eyes through the place and when the revelation hit him his hazel eyes widened. The smoke of his cigarette stuck in him causing him to cough. " No way...."

Solona bit her lips hard, seeing as his confused look slowly hardened. She opened her door, tried to force tranquility on her steps as walked to her workbench and turned to him again. Her nails deepened into the edge of the table to give her some support or just to channel her anxiety into it. Alistair took his strides a few steps behind her, stopping in the middle of her laboratory examining it with curious and astonished eyes.

"Do you know what ' _Friends of Red Jenny_ ' is, Alistair?" she asked. Strangely she was calm. Like she just put down a heavy weight.

Alistair raised his eyebrows "The terrorist group?"

Solona chuckled "The truth is always relative. It depends from where you observe it. For the police, they are terrorists, for themselves they are justicars, for me an opportunity to protect a friend." Alistair began to walk to her with a smirk on his face what she couldn't anticipate or solve.

"For _you_?"

"The device what blew up the red lyrium shipment? I made it. The ' _fucking bastard_ ' you chased in the alleyway, it was me."

Now Alistair chuckled "You know, Sol, you are really one of a kind. A brilliant engineer, a girl who blushes adorably to every compliment and a member of the most wanted terrorist group in Thedas. Impressive, really. And Maker, you have a hell of a punch."

He slowly reached her, searching for something in his inner pocket. "I believe, this is yours," and he showed her the missing screwdriver before putting it on the table and placing his hands on the table on the two sides of her hips, entrapping her. "But if what you say is true I'm afraid I have to arrest you."

"You could..." she was calm. "But do you really think it would serve justice? Do you really think your Chief, Meredith serves jus-"

He silenced her with a violent kiss, desperately like there wasn't tomorrow. "Do you think I could throw you to them?" he hissed as they parted. "You are the only thing in this fucking world what is worth to protect." And he kissed her again biting her lips greedily, trailing his tongue into her mouth, slowly pushing her on the surface of the workbench.

He kissed bit her throat feverishly as pulled up the skirt on her thighs. Solona moaned lost in the sensation slowly realizing what he was doing.

“Alistair, wait,” he froze. “I’m a virgin.” Alistair looked up at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t define. Something like concern.

“Should I stop?” he asked. Solona cupped his cheek, shaking her head and drawing him back to her. Alistair kissed her again hissing sharply. He drew his hand drown on her torso, the sensation making her the arch against him. And he froze once again.

“No...” he heaved as receded from her. Solona stood up, her glance questioning. “It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be on a table, taking you hastily like some… “he swallowed one.” …whore. It should be perfect. Because you are…” he bit the end of the sentence. Solona smiled at him started to walk to a narrow caracole, turning back to him as reached the banister.

“Follow me,” she whispered. And began to take the steps, hearing the uncertain ones behind her.

She opened the door of her small room and stepped in, unpinning her hair letting it fall on her shoulder in loose locks, taking off her glasses and putting on her nightstand. She looked at her small bed and heard him entering and fidgeting with something before he stepped right behind her, sweeping her hair from her shoulder and softly kissing her neck just under her ears.

“I want it to happen, Alistair,” she whispered. “And I want it to be you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly as trailed his fingers down her shoulder and the side of her arms.

She nodded. “I have never been more certain in my whole life,” and with shaking hands began to unbutton her blouse. Alistair stopped her hands closing them into his. She turned her head to him.

“I want to see your eyes. I want to see it all the way long,” and he gently spun her to him. Alistair moved her hands away and continued to unbutton her blouse, and Solona did the same with his shirt. Their hands were shaking. It was like both of them doing this for the first time. She opened his unbuttoned shirt and let it slid from his shoulder. Alistair pulled her blouse down from her shoulder embracing her at her waist unzipping her skirt, letting it fall down on the floor. Solona stepped out from it and unbuckled his belt, making him free from his pants.

Alistair embraced her again, undoing her bra and gently peeling her out from it. Solona’s arm reflexively crossed before her chest. Alistair smiled at her gingerly, as slowly forced her arms apart making her whimper in embarrassment.

“Don’t hide yourself,” he whispered brushing his lips against her ear. “I want to know every inch of your body," he slowly kneeled down kissing her belly under her navel as pulled down her knickers, making her tremble by the sweet sensation. Alistair looked up to her as stood up, something undefinable in his eyes, hunger, lust, sensuality.

“Maker’s breath, but you are beautiful,” he heaved as drew her to a kiss and pushed her on the bed. “I try to be as gentle as I can. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said as towered over her.

Solona cupped his cheeks and brushed her fingers through his lips. “I know," she whispered as pulled him for a kiss.


	30. Madame Lavellan's

Cullen walked through the Dregs. His uniform made him stand out, he knew, but his reputation kept most of the scum that floated to the streets in places like these away from him. He walked through the moonlit streets, heading to the quarters at the edge of the very Dregs, where the ladies of the night often waited for their customers. He put on a scowl as he walked, ignoring the stares of the ladies, their calls. He resisted the urge to blush. He was here for a reason, and this was not it. Not like he ever came here for company with these ladies to begin with. He turned into the gates of one of the houses there and knocked on the door.

A woman opened. She was definitely a woman. Her breasts in the corset were so big he could have rested a teacup on them. “Uh--” he began.

“Captain Cullen!” She exclaimed at the sight of him.

That surprised him. “You know me?”

“Oh we know you, alright,” she purred, taking his arm and leading him to the house, the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood overwhelming him. “But not as well as I would like.”

She was pressing up against him. “I--” Cullen fumbled. He was here for a purpose! “I need to speak to Madame Lavellan--” The woman took off his coat.

“Trisha!” Another girl came out, her face painted, her chest tiny in the corset. Cullen had to stop looking at breasts! She grabbed his other arm. “Don’t be selfish! I saw him from the upstairs window before you did!”

“If I could just--” Cullen said, trying to pry the new woman off, his face on fire.

“We can share, Lisa!” Trisha piped up.

“No!” Cullen squeaked. He pulled his hands free from both of them and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just need to talk to Madame Lavellan, please! I’m not here for- for--”

“The best orgasm of your life?” Lisa purred.

Cullen sputtered, his face aflame. “Madame Lavellan, please!”

“Very well!” Lisa said. She set her hand on his back, her fingers tracing his bottom and making his skin crawl. He was led into a room beyond a beaded curtain. Everything within was lit with dim golden light from a crystal chandelier. There were couches and a huge round poufe and gingham curtains. There were also women turning to eye him curiously. Cullen kept his arms crossed over his chest.

Trisha pushed his shoulders and sat him on the poufe. Cullen found his legs crossing as Trisha sat next to him, very, very close to him. Maker help him….

“I’ll call Madame Lavellan,” Lisa winked at the others.

“With haste, please,” Cullen said. Another woman sat on his other side. Cullen averted his eyes from her chest. He swallowed.

“Of course…” Lisa grinned and headed up the stairs.

“What’s this mean?” Asked a woman, touching the stripes on his sleeve.

“It means ‘Captain’, madame,” Cullen muttered.

“Captain?” Another sat behind him. Cullen felt soft mounds on his back. He bit his lip and curled up a little.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Captain.”

“Why doesn’t the captain come play with us?”

“It - that would not be proper.” Cullen heard them laugh. Hands were on him. Good-natured, playful, but still touching him. He moved to stand. They pulled him back down onto the poufe. “Please, madame!” Cullen croaked.  

“Madame?” A woman laughed, Cullen couldn’t tell them apart anymore. “There’s only one _madame_ here."

A hand pushed him off balance, he tipped back onto his elbows and regretted it immediately as they leaned over him. He grasped a hand reaching for his crotch. He crossed his legs. “Maker’s breath - please I am not here for this!”

“Why? Do you like boys? Lala got lice, had to cut her hair short. And she likes it in the butt. Lala! Come here!”

“No!”

Cloying perfume in his face. “Girls and boys have similar parts too, you know.”

“No!” Cullen whimpered, trying to push himself up. There was a tongue in his ear!

Cullen pushed himself up, all the hands falling off him. They pouted and groaned in disappointment but did not reach out to pull him back. He stared at them as he caught his breath. He turned around.

Ariris stood at the foot of the stairs, her expression disapproving. Cullen swallowed, his throat dry. “We were warming him up for you mama,” Trisha said.

“I - that’s not what I came here for,” Cullen squeaked.

...Mama, they called her mama.

“When have I _ever_ needed your help warming them up?” Ariris chided. “Behave yourselves, girls. You can’t be throwing it away for free. Have some self-respect.”

“But it’s his first time!”

“His chest felt really good!”

“Do you know what his ear tastes like? Elderberry!”

“His never comes here!”

“And I’m sure he never will come if you paw at him like that,” Ariris said firmly. Cullen stood there frozen, face utterly aflame, words washing over him in his dazed state. Ariris tugged his sleeve and led him up the stairs. She sighed. “Perhaps you should get your attire in order, Captain Cullen.”

Cullen blinked, looking down at himself. His clothing was in complete disarray. “Maker!” He croaked and buttoned his uniform up, tucked in his undershirt and zipped his pants up. He couldn't even remember when any of his clothing had come undone.

Ariris eyed him over her shoulder. “I am surprised to see you here, Captain,” She said coolly, leading him into her room. “And I’m certain you aren’t here for the pleasure of my company.”

“No,” Cullen said immediately. “I mean, not that sort of-- Andraste I--” He held his head and realized his hair was a mess. He pushed it down, drawing a deep breath, his heart still thumping in his chest. “I need a minute.”

Ariris smiled faintly and went to a sideboard. Cullen heard the clink of a crystal decanter against a glass. She held out a cup to him, generously filled with brandy. Cullen took it and drained it. He felt better with the fire sliding down his throat. He sighed. She took the cup from him. “Feeling better?” Ariris smiled.

“Yes, thank you,” Cullen said, looking over his shoulder at the door.

“I apologize for my girls, Captain. They get carried away sometimes. These girls are young and wild, like weeds. Most of them were born with more boobs than brains." She smiled that fake pretty smile. "The girls employed here offer their services because they want to-- I can't stop them from choosing this profession. All I can do is provide a safe space for them to do so."

"They said... About my first... how did they...?" His pressed the dampness of his palms into the fabric on his thighs. 

Ariris laughed so hard she snorted-- a sincere, boisterous and cute laugh. The sort that makes you laugh along, when it wasn't at your expense.

Cullen didn’t trust himself to say anything. Ariris looked at him thoughtfully as she sat herself down on her divan, Cullen had the impression she was sizing him up in more ways than one. She pat the divan next to her. Cullen went and sat down a little stiffly. “So you are the one,” she smiled faintly.

“The what?” Cullen blinked.

“The one Evelyn has taken to.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I came to talk about her,” he said, gathering himself. There was something so ripe about Ariris, a fruit ready for the picking. And she was Father Solas’s wife? That was… a little unbelievable.

She smiled warmly at him. “Are you asking for tips?”

“Yes? No!” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I’m not here for tips. Maker’s breath, my mind’s all… I came to talk to you about Evelyn. It’s rather serious.”

Ariris looked at him, her eyes hardening.

“When was the last time you spoke with her?” Cullen asked.

“Why? Has something happened to her?”

“Something has been happening to her for a long time,” Cullen frowned. He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Madame Lavellan, I hear you both were close when you were children. I just came to tell you that… it might be wise for you to speak with her soon. She’s-- She’s going through a difficult time. She needs people with her.”

Ariris stood up, taking her shawl immediately. “Where are you going?” Cullen asked, taken aback.

“I have business I need to attend to.”

“Don't you... She’s not at the estate. In case you... care.”

Ariris froze, staring at him.

“She’s moved.”

“Where is she?”

“House 37, Lane 9 of the Borroughs,” Cullen said.

Ariris’s eyes softened. “She left…”

“She… yes. She left.”

“I will speak with her. When it's appropriate.”

Cullen frowned in slight puzzlement. “Don’t you want to know why she left?” He asked.

“It is not my place to question.”

Cullen stood up. “Yes, it is,” he said. “You are _friends_ , are you not? She needs someone--”

Ariris turned to him fully then, her shawl about her shoulders. “You do not know my place, nor me. Why not you, handsome knight?” She asked then, walking up to Cullen. Cullen met her eyes, silver like frost, reaching into him like the winter chill. “I want to,” he said softly. “But I can only do so much. She’s… I think she needs more than me.”

“A puzzling thing, Captain,” Ariris murmured. “You know she is engaged.”

“Not for long, I’ll wager,” Cullen’s eyes hardened.

“Even if she isn’t, you know her place in society. It is a much different place than we are. Does it not concern you?”

“I…” Cullen frowned. “I don’t know about that, Madame Lavellan. All I know is she’s alone, she’s lonely, she needs people who love her.”

Ariris tilted her head. “Besides you, you mean?”

Cullen met her gaze, his jaw clenched. “It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “It will never happen. The least I can do is… help her.”

Ariris turned from him, Cullen thought he saw a hint of a smile at her lips. “Then I thank you for coming to let me know, Captain,” she said, heading to the door.

“Wait!” Cullen exclaimed. “You’re going to see her?”

Ariris stilled, her hand on the door. "I'm going to do what I always do. Some love is heroic and brash-- dashing. Some love stays where they put it, even when they forget it is there."

Cullen arched a brow. "How... have we met before?"

She smiled softly. "Oh yes. We've met." Ariris advanced again to exit. 

“Perhaps - at least, um, I would appreciate if you escorted me to the door…”

Ariris chuckled softly and hooked her arm in his. "I will bring you down safely this time, Captain." 


	31. Golden Rays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Suggested Listening - Little Things - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wBzR7zhA0g)

The first golden rays of the sun reached the little room. But there the time has frozen. Nothing existed outside of it, just two bodies under the white blanket, tangled, warm by each other. Usually, he would get up by now, putting up his clothes hastily and slipping out without a voice leaving nothing behind just fuzzy memories of an intoxicated and shameful night. But the girl beside him was everything but usual.

Alistair loved watching her sleeping. He watched as her chest rhythmically moved up and down, swept those unruly red locks from her face, trailed his finger on her freckled shoulder drawing invisible nonsenses on it. He watched her slender neck and the bruises with he marked her of his own in his fervency.

He couldn’t sleep just watched her as peacefully laid next to him, like he was frightened that if he closes his eyes she would vanish when he opens again. Like it was just a daydream that he hallucinated drunkenly and when he sobers up he would see a shitty whore who accidentally had the same beautiful red hair and marble skin whit those lovely freckles what he could blindly recall one by one.

He still couldn’t believe it. It was like he lost his virginity with her once again. All of her kisses all of her callow touches were like a thunderbolt striking through him. She gave him everything. Her first kiss, her virginity and Alistair could only offer one thing for her, his soul, that nobody owned before her. If only he could give everything else to her. If only she had been the one to who he gave everything.

He swept through his thumb on her cherry-red lips, bruised by his possessive kisses, her hot breath leaving vapor on his skin. He watched as the side of his mouth invulnerably turned to a smile by his touch, making his heart thudding.

She was so adorably pure, even in her intoxication, even if she was a Red Jenny. He could never give her to Meredith. It wouldn’t serve justice, it would serve the law. The whole Yard was a fucking joke anyway if a terrorist group was only capable holding back the distribution of a dangerous drug. They were corrupted to the core and Alistair would die before tossing her into their claws.

With this certainty he snuggled her to himself as tightly as he could, feeling her bare skin brushing against his, inhaling her scent of lavender. He wanted her. Her body, her soul. He wanted to possess every fiber of her.

“I can’t breathe,” Solona’s sleepy voice made his arms loosening around her.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” he apologized, exhaling a kiss on her forehead.

Solona cupped his cheek, brushed her finger across his scar and shook her head with a smile before drew him to her for a morning kiss. Morning kisses were usually sour, filled with regret but hers was sweet like the promise of the new spring. Maker, he became so fucking sentimental.

“Are you…? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he has never asked this question. He took away many virginities but it never mattered, but now it did.

Solona wrapped her arms around his neck and smoothed down a finger down the nape of his neck. “It was perfect," she whispered and drawing him into another kiss. Alistair trailed his hand down her body, drawing her hips closer to him. His mouth mapped her neck and shoulder.

“We should get up…” Solona gasped.

“Don’t be so spoilsport,” he whispered as he reached her shoulder.

“No… I need to have a bath… I stink… and I have to work,” Solona shifted under him playfully.

“You have the most delicious smell in the whole world.” Alistair traveled down to the valley of her breasts. “And I intend to keep you in bed all day long.”

“Oh, and Officer Theirin always gets everything that he wants, doesn’t he?” she giggled shivering under his touch.

“I don’t want everything,” he breathed against her skin as reached her belly under her navel. “I want just you,” and he tentatively licked across her length causing her to suck a sharp breath and arching her back, moving into his touch.

“You still want to get up?” he looked on Solona who shook her head. “Good girl…” he chuckled.

 

++++++++++++++++

 

She was so fucking beautiful when she had an orgasm. No unnecessary or overplayed voices, just sweet trembling and muffled moans. Everything about her was perfect. And he couldn’t watch her, touch her or take her enough to get bored.

His arms around her waist, his face in her breast, heaving in sweet exhaustion. Solona played with his locks and sometimes planted a soft kiss on his hair and hummed some sweet lullaby into his ear. He looked out the small windows, seeing that the sun has passed its zenith. They spent the whole morning and the half afternoon  like this in bed, like the world really ceased to exist outside that room. And he wished if only they could froze like this forever.

She began to shift under him. Alistair looked up at her, seeing she wants to get free.

“Where are you going?” he asked. She kissed the tip of his nose.

“I really need to work. And have a bath,” Alistair tightened his arms around her.

“No, no. no. You are staying here," he released her waist and pinned her hands to the mattress beside her head mounting over her. “I'll make love with you again, if I have to,” ‘ _making love_ ’. He has never used this one. It was a ' _good fuck_ ', or a ' _good run_ ' or something else with he could degrade it to a primal need. He always took them from behind to not see their reactions. They were just a pile of flesh into he could unload his junk. In her case he wanted to see her every little tremble and even if he wanted to have an orgasm being inside her, he just couldn't. It would have made her no better than those faceless whores. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it…”

She giggled as tried to get free from his grip. “I’m sure of it,” her thin wrist slid free from his fingers and she jumped up before he could catch him, laughing playfully as she leaped away from his touch, hiding behind the folding screen.

“Do you have something to eat?” Alistair asked as a bit disappointed sat up on the bed and reached out for his trousers searching for a cigarette. She did not answer, just poured water into the tub. Alistair stood up and walked to the folding screen peeping through the small holes seeing her sitting on the side of it naked, pinning her hair into a loose bun.

 _I must draw her like this._ He thought. He hasn’t held a pencil for a time now, but now he felt he need to do it and he reached for his notebook in his coat.

“What did you ask?” she inquired. His move froze.

“I said I bet you don’t have a single bite of food here,” no answer came. He put on his underwear and trousers, taking another peek on he seeing her sitting in the tub.

“You know me too well,” she giggled. “Would you bring some? I'll make some tea. I’m starving.” she sulked playfully.

“Your desire is my command.” he chuckled as buttoned up his shirt.

 

+++++++++++++++

 

When he returned to the laboratory she was already working, standing over a blueprint, making calculations. Her all attention was on her task. The tea was steaming over the Bunsen burner, two tea cups readied and some sugar and cream for him. She remembered.

Solona looked up on him, releasing a soft smile before returned to her work. Alistair put down the croissants on the table, casting a glance on the toolbox, taking out a monkey wrench, examining it.

“Don’t touch-” she ordered, looking at him, but with another smile, she shook her head. “Never mind,” and she returned to her blueprint.

Alistair took the instrument back to its place and walked to her, embracing her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and watching what she was doing. He watched as her fast moving hands wrote down the equations and registered the results on the blueprint. He watched the elegant lines and curves as they formed a machine, that fascinated him once again. It was like a vision and he was lucky enough to see it.

“What are you doing? You said you were starving,” he whispered into her ear as exhaled a kiss on it. She leaned into his touch.

“I have to finish these recalcultions,” she murmured as began a new equation. Alistair snatched the pen from her hand and took it on the workbench, spinning her gently to him, kissing the tip of her nose.

“You can do it after eating,”

Solona cupped his cheek and brushed her finger across his scar. “How did you get this?” he took her hand into his and kissed her ink-stained palm.

“It is not the story with I want to spoil this beautiful day.” And another kiss on her wrist. “I will tell you one day, I promise, but not today.” He drew her closer and exhaled another kiss on her temple. “Tell me everything about this aircraft instead.” and he beckoned to the blueprint.

Solona followed is eyes and chuckled as freed herself from his holding. “Don’t you want to see it instead?” she inquired taking his hand, leading him to the metal stairs led to the roof.

The wind was strong that day, more chilling on the rooftop, despite it was end of spring and the sun made the ground warmer and warmer every day. Solona went to something covered with a tilt and with a form move removed it.

Alistair petrified by the view. It was like a dream. Her dream. It had the shape of a dragonfly, the wings lank still steady with two propellers. The fuselage was slender and streamlined on the top of it a seat, like saddle waiting for to ride it. Solona walked to it and brushed her hand on it with such tenderness like a mother caress her child. It was her child.

“She is the _Gryphon_.” Solona said. “’I’m working on her for years now and she is almost done.”

Alistair went to her and hugged her from behind. “And then you will ride her? Conquer the sky?”

She chuckled sadly as shook her head. “She isn’t mine. She is Evelyn Trevelyan’s. Her father paid for everything. He bought me this place to build toys for her. The Gryphon is hers.”

“But you can still try it, can’t you?” he asked. She shook her head once again.

“My eyes make it impossible. I can’t see clearly enough to navigate.”something painful glimered in her eyes. “It is ironic, isn’t it? My only dream is to fly and I can only give wings to others and watching them from the ground as they soaring free like a bird.”

Alistair tightened his arms around her more, dipping her nose into his shoulder, inhaling her scent. She intoxicated him, made him drunk without alcohol, he...

“I love you,” he whispered and as it left his mouth he felt her twitching. Solona turned her head to him and Alistair slowly released her, letting her to turn to him completely. She looked at him questioningly, confused like she expected anything but this. “I know it is early, I know we barely know each other, but when I’m with you I feel myself a better person, not just a pathetic joke. You make me feel I belong to somewhere and I'm not just a mistake who nobody needs. You give meaning to all this pointless chaos."

Solona opened her mouth but no sound came out of it. She took a deep breath but before she could say something Alistair took his finger before her lips. “I don’t want you to feel it like an obligation because I told this to you. I want you to say it because you mean it,” and he kissed her as the last golden rays of the sun shone on them before vanished behind the horizon.


	32. The Power of Knowledge

_Solona sat under the gazebo and read. Evelyn and Ariris were at their riding lesson. They never asked her to join. They never cared if she wants to join or not. Maybe because of her myopia, maybe because they thought she wasn't interested in it. Or because they had their own world together just as she among her books and chemistry kit that her father gave her. She loved chemistry, observing the reactions of different substances, she loved how the magnesium burned or the iodine crystals sublimated. She loved being with her father and doing experiments._

_The stupid girls could keep their stupid horses._

_She heard rustles from the bushes and soon Solas came out, heading to her under the gazebo._

_"One day they will catch you, you’ll see.” Solona snapped as he reached the gazebo, her voice low and calm as quickly glanced on him before returned to her book._

_Solas shrugged as he looked around. “Who cares?”_

_“I do par example… and Ari, stupid,” she replied. Solas sat on the wooden railing. He acted like he owned everywhere he went. “And if you are looking for Ari, she is not here. She went to her riding lesson with Evie.”_

_"I know,” he grunted._

_Solona looked up through the thick lenses of her glasses on Solas into his eyes what for some reason sometimes was blue other times, especially when he was mad about something, was storm gray. “Are you jealous, Solas?” she asked. Solas frowned._

_“Evie is a spoiled rich girl who thinks can do anything with anybody. Ariris has just recovered from Scarlet Fever and she drags her to ride a fucking horse!"_

_“Language,” Solona scolded him._

_Fuck shit cunt. ... Jealous. Are you?"_

_"Will you be nice? For once in your entire life?_ _Ari is alright. My mother allowed her to come out to the fresh air. Even so she suggested her spending more time outside. And Evie got her a new hat. A big floppy one to keep off the sun. "_

_"Why are you defending Evie all the time?” he hissed his voice heated with suppressed rage. Solona with a calm and deliberate move took down her book and gave her full attention to Solas. “She keeps you and Ari around like some kind of trophy. Like she is the bee queen and you are her servants.” Solona’s remained calm as listened his louder and angrier speech waiting him patiently to finish it. The hatred how he spoke about Evie made her skin crawl._

_“You promised me something Solas,” she said at last. “You promised me you try getting control of your temper.”_

_“Whatever,” he snorted. “You haven’t given me any medical books either, any you promised me that. So don't talk to me about promising anything." Solona stood under his glare as reached out for her canvas bag with a smirk on her face._

_“You mean, these?” and she took out three huge books from it picking up one and wiggling it before him. Solas jumped from the railing and snatched them from Solona’s hand, sitting next to her. He devoured the book, examined the illustrations with almost religious fascination. Solona smiled. It was good to have somebody around beside Anders who was interested in science. Ariris and Evelyn were only interested in their clothes, riding lessons and their secret games into what Solona was never initiated._

_She returned to her book and the minutes expanded to hours with reading silently next to each other._

_"Solas…” Solona addressed him uncertainly as looked up at him. "Are we... friends?"_

_Solas with a careless shrug nodded, but the side of his mouth turned to a soft smile. “Then tell me. Why do you want to be a doctor?”_

_He closed his book and glanced at her. “To take care of Ariris,” he answered plainly before returned to his reading._

_She held her eyes on him, thinking. "Is that all? Solas... we are friends. Maybe you're so mysterious to everyone else, but not to me. And... you know, my mother... is a good physician. She heals people, gives them medicine,” she began. “She smiles on them comfort them. But when she is in her study amid her cadavers she changes. “Solas looked up on her again his glance became strangely beasty again. “She terrifies me. As she cuts them up, takes out the organs, conserves them in formaldehyde and arranges them on the shelves in neat rows. She always says death is part of life so I shouldn’t be afraid of it. It's for science and progression. Like what my father does. And I know she is right. But the thing is I’m not afraid of death, I’m afraid of her. The thing she becomes when she is in her study. The cold practicality she handles death. Like it was a calculation on the chalkboard or a side note in an anatomy book."_

_She turned her full body to Solas, taking her hand on his forearm. “Promise me you will never cut people open. Promise me you will never be like my mother in her study. Promise me you won't... play Maker.”_

_With a soft chuckle, he took his own hand on hers. “I promise I won't be like your mother.”_

 

+++++++++

 

"Are you okay, Alistair? You seem distracted." Solona pushed her glasses up her small freckled nose.

"I'm sorry. It's work related. What, don't look so surprised! I do care about my job. ...Sometimes."

Solona peered into the crisp hazel of his eyes. "Anything I can help with?" Alistair grinned, feelings his heart flutter at her sweetness. Always so selfless, eager to assist. "Nah." He tossed a newspaper onto the table, gave her skirt a tug. "You can give me a kiss."

Her eyes caught against the headline, a small squeak escaping her lips. _Two More Found, but not their Heads!_ Alistair shrugged, pulled her down onto his lap. "Ah, don't let it spook you. We'll catch him. And I won't let anything happen to you. Not a damn thing." Solona stood up, her cheeks red. Alistair pulled a crumpled cigarette out and tapped it against the table before he lit it. "Besides," he paused to exhale his initial drag, coughed. "Whoever is killing people isn't going after pretty be-speckled girls. That's the strange thing. He's killing people that... won't be missed. One of the victims... was a total creep-show that hung around the orphanage leering at kids. Then there was the guy who gave Mama Lavellan quite a beating. These last two, the most recent... ah, you don't want to hear about this."

Solona flipped the newspaper over, so she didn't have to see the headline. "Don't you call her that!" She folded her arms defensively.  "And how do you know it's a _he_? What if it's a woman?"

Alistair laughed far longer than he should have, stopping only under the points of Solona's glare. He leaned in a bit as if he was going to tell her a terrific secret.

"What if it IS a woman?" Solona interrupted, angry. Alistair began to shift, uncomfortable. "What if it was _me_?" Her eyes were hard, wild.

"You? Sol, that--"

"Do you know of the theory called the butterfly effect, Alistair?" Her hands were trembling now. Alistair shook his head. "It is a theory that states that even the smallest actions have great consequences. That a butterfly flapping it's wings could cause a tsunami on the other side of the world."

Alistair scratched the stubble on his chin, gave a shrug. "I don't get the appeal of butterflies. I mean, they are nice looking an all, if a bit overrated."  

Solona began to cry, quiet small tears. He stood, draped his arms over her shoulders. "Sol... hey. It's okay." He kissed her on her forehead, hugged her. "I may not know anything about bug theory or tsunamis or whatever... but I do know this. You are a good person. And whatever it was that happened... whatever it was that made you doubt that... _you're wrong_."

 

 _"I didn't name you! Solas, we're friends_!"

 

Solona looked up into the kind lines of his face, worn at his eyes and around his lips from too much smoking. "You have no idea.

 

+++++++

 

_She was in the living room of the empty house of her parents. She sat by the fireplace, watching as the fire consumed the research notes and the samples, embracing her legs and swung on her toes back and forth. Her eyes were glassy, swollen by her tears and she watched as a half year of work cremating into ashes, sniffed the stink of burning lyrium and paper what slowly filled the air with chocking smoke._

_The curtains hid the sunshine. Nothing embraced her just darkness and the dim light of the fire. It felt so poetic. Nothing was around her just darkness. She could cause nothing but darkness. Every time she wanted to help she just made things worse. And slowly everything had fallen to pieces and she could do nothing to keep it together._

_She still felt the odor of antiseptic, saw the tubes and medical instruments around a fragile body. She still saw a tiny hand connecting to his father's in a so tragic way, a mother drugged into blissful unconsciousness, and a father in the deepest madness of desperation. And she heard the song of the red lyrium._

_She gagged again, feeling the urge to vomit taking her hand before her mouth knowing there is nothing more to throw out. her hands tightened more around her legs, her fingers raked her arms until it became bruised under the thick fabric of her tweed coat. She stared the fire as it destroyed a complete world what she believed in, what she lived for._

_The door opened. The light intruded to the darkness painfully, hurting her eyes, giving her headache. There was no light in the darkness and if it was it only caused agony._

_"What is this smell?" Anders disgruntled as came in. Solona did not look at him just listened the steps coming closer to her, it echoed heavily in the stillness of the small living room. "What are you doing here in the dark, Sol?" he asked cautiously as reached her and looked into the fire, the burning piles of papers and samples._

_"Tell me those are not the research notes!" Anders heaved. Solona looked at him and her glassy and inexpressive eyes gave him the answer. "Andraste's fucking sake Solona, why!!??"_

_"Lyrium can't give anything to the humanity. It can just take away." Solona muttered before turned her gaze back to the fireplace. "Believe me, Anders, I saw it with my own eyes."_

_Anders crouched next to her, taking his hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. "What happened?"_

_"He promised me. He promised me that he would never be like Mother in her study. He fucking promised me," her voice seemed gaunt, telling it just to herself like Anders wouldn't be even there. "And he kept his promise," she cracked up hysterically. "He became much worse. He plays god, he plays the Maker."_

_Who?" Anders frowned. "Sol, what happened?" he asked again, this time, a bit more intently._

_"How supercilious we scientists are." her trembling words weren't an answer. She still spoke to herself. "We possess the power of knowledge it intoxicates us until we believe this justifies everything we do because it serves the greater good," she spat these words like these were the most hatred ones in the whole world._

_"Sol-" Anders tried to shake her out from that trance she was is._

_"We think we are demi-gods who can do anything because we serve the sacred progression. But we are just monsters without morals, without humanity." Anders stroked his hand down her back. The soft move what was supposed to soothe her just made Solona shudder more. "Desperate measures and unlimited knowledge that make us monsters. I created one, Anders. I-" her voice trailed off. " I just wanted to help them, wanted to save that tiny baby-" her urge to cry overwhelmed her and a painful sob broke out from her. She still had tears. "And once again I made things worse."_

_Anders hugged her shoulder. She winced, struggled under his touch. "What are you talking about, Sol?"_

_"Just promise me we will never talk about this again. Promise me that it will lose in the oblivion, please. I just want to forget it like it never happened," she pleaded. Anders exhaled a brotherly kiss on her temple as slipped his hand under her popliteal, and with her stood up. She felt feather-light, with her blood-shed eyes and almost chalk-white skin she looked like an empty husk, whose soul shattered into shards and just emptiness remained._

_"I promise" Anders whispered as brought Solona to her room. He took her into bed and reached out for his medical bag, taking out a syringe and injecting some morphine into her veins. " Just please, rest a bit, sleep a bit."_

_Solona felt as the heavy drowsiness conquers her and she did not fight against it. She had no more fortitude._

_"Don't worry. I will get better. I always do," she murmured before fell into a dreamless sleep._


	33. Decisions

Alistair woke up on her absence. The bed was cold beside him and he saw the light coming from downstairs. She kept vigil the night through again. With a careworn sigh, he got out from the bed took his underwear and a blanket on his back and with sleepy steps descended to the laboratory.

Solona was sitting at her drawing table, one her legs pulled to her chest, the other swung. Her toe never reached the ground just swayed gently over it. She embraced her leg, resting her chin on her knee, staring the unsigned contract her eyes filled with worry and puzzlement. She was naked, her hair loose falling on her shoulder like a fire cascade. Alistair so loved when her hair was loose. She looked so natural and beautiful and if he didn’t know how this thing ate her he could just watch her for hours like this and still he couldn’t be sated with the view.

"Why is it that every time I wake up in the middle of the night you are never beside me?" he purred as went to her, planted a soft kiss on the pate of her head, inhaled the scent of her hair and took the blanket on her back. She looked at him with a faint smile and drew her glance back on the document.

“Blast it, Sol! Don’t torture yourself,” he grunted. “They don’t deserve that much. Not Du Grace nor the Trevelyan girl,” and he embraced her from behind. “None of them deserves you anyway.”

“This is _really_ what am I, Alistair?” she asked, her voice jaded “Am I treacherous, purchasable and manipulable? Does my intelligence really worth so less? Are they really toying with me anyhow they want?” she bit her lips and tightened her arms around her leg. “Why this all feels so wrong?” her voice trembled.

“You don’t have to accept it. If you think it would be better with the Trevelyan Industries…” Alistair whispered into her ears comfortingly.

“It’s not about the Trevelyan Industries. It’s about _Evelyn,_ ” Solona laughed what turned to a cry. "Isn't it ironic? _She_ was the only one who believed in my dream. _She_ gave me money to accomplish it…”

“You said it was her father…” Alistair cut her.

“It was her father’s money, but I’m pretty sure it was Evelyn who procured it. Do you really think a considered business man would fund such a risky investment by himself? It was Evie.”

“And? You still don’t owe them anything,” he spun the chair to himself, leaning on the armrest, and his head inches from hers. “You yourself said you did everything for them and it was never enough. You risked everything and it wasn’t enough. You said they never needed you.”

Solona rose her eyes on Alistair. “But I need them,” And the tears began to trickle down her face. Alistair cupped her cheeks and gently kissed her lips.

"Then don’t accept it,” he whispered into her mouth.

“But we could…” Alistair made her silent with another kiss.

“I don’t care if we have a cozy and huge home in the Rise or we live in that small room over your laboratory. I don’t care if we sleep under the bridge as long as you are with me,” he kissed her again, this time, deeper, his hand gently gripped the nape of her neck. “And if you need Evelyn Trevelyan and Ariris Lavellan to be happy, well, I'll survive it somehow, I guess. Nobody is perfect. Actually, if there hadn't been Ariris, well I would have ended up in a shithole weeping how fucked up I am."

He took her hands and pulled up from the chair, leaving the blanket slide from her back, snuggling her to himself as much as he could. “And now, get back to the bed before I become a very bad and nasty man seeing you like this.”

Solona chuckled as looked at him with that so missed sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, and what would Officer Theirin do with me if I protested?” and she brushed her finger down his chest, teasing him. Alistair’s glance wandered to the table filled with vials and blueprints.

“Once we began something on that workbench. Let's finish it, shall we?” Solona giggled as wrapped her hands around his neck and demanded his lips firstly just brushing hers to his then deepened it searched for her tongue until they were lost in each other.

Alistair blindly led her to the edge of the table, and when her back hit it he lifted her up on it, widened her legs to make room for his hips between them. He kissed her, bit her lips and loved the ways she moaned into his mouth as a response. His lips wandered down her neck, that hollow between her two collarbones and herfreckled shoulder, his hands in a tightly grip around her ass, pulling her thighs closer to his lap. Solona’s legs crossed around his waist. Their bodies always fitted perfectly to each other. Like they were two matching parts of a puzzle.

_She WAS perfect. She was so fucking perfect._

“Alistair, wait...” she heaved at some point. He drew his glance back to her, confused.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.

Solona shook her head and cupped his cheek brushed her thumb across his scar and smiled. “I just... I love you,” she whispered. And something broke in him. He kissed her fiercely, desperately like his life depended on it, drawing her body to himself as much as he could. Solona’s hands blindly tugged his underwear. He bit her neck, feeling her erratic breaths and pounding heart, pulled her hips to his and he slid into her.

_He had never felt more alive in his whole life._

 

+++++++

 

Solona stood before the entrance of the huge office building with the too redundant fascia telling the world to whom it belonged.

_Du Grace Enterprises._

She snuggled the folio to herself and tried to take the steps to the gate but her legs did not move. She still hesitated.

 _Did Evelyn worth all this?_ She was never part of her life. Solona was there when she needed, she made things for her. Why should she be part of her new life? Solona wanted to leave the Red Jennies, finally had somebody who made her believe she matters and now she got a chance to move on to start everything over. Why should Evelyn part of this if Solona had never been part of her and Ariris’ life they just kept around her for some reason?

“Miss Amell,” she heard the mellifluous voice from behind what made her sick. _Did she really want to sell her dream a man like this?_

She turned to the voice seeing Alexius stepping out from the luxurious carriage and smiled to her with an unctuous smile. “What a pleasure to see you here,” he said as reached her and exhaled a kiss on her hand. There was something shuddering in his touch, something predatory in his eyes, something that made her skin crawl. “Have you considered my offer?”

Solona withdrew her hand and cleared her throat. “Actually yes, Lord Du Grace. I have made my decision.”

“In that case…” and he took his hand on her back and ushered her into the building, through the rows of busy looking secretaries.

The place worked like a well-oiled mechanism. Where every cog was in its place. Where nobody questioned his place. Where everybody was faceless and nameless. The offices were well equipped, clean and neat. It was a well-hidden drudgery, where you don’t even realize you are trapped.  Did she really want to part of this, losing her identity for some money?

“Mathilda, my dear, fetch some tea and biscuit for us,” he purred to his assistant when turned to her. “How do you drink your tea, Miss Amell?”

“Lord Du Grace… it is really not necessary,” she tried to apologize uncomfortably. She did not want to spend more time in this place what was needed.

“You are absolutely right, Miss Amell,” he beamed. “A fruitful cooperation like this needs a more proper way to celebrate. Mathilda, bring us champagne!” he ordered. The assistant jumped, curtsied and vanished before Solona could protest.

“Lord Du Grace this is really unnecessary,” she put her weight on her foot to another uncomfortably, snuggled the folio to herself more, tried to find something to hang on it. “I don’t drink alcohol,” _or at least not with him._ She tried to find an excuse, a route to escape.

“Don’t talk such nonsenses, Miss Amell,” he snickered. “A small champagne never killed anybody,” and he opened the vast oak tree door and led her into his huge and over-decorated office.

It was larger than her laboratory, the walls filled with trophies and guns. In the middle of the place a luxurious mahogany desk, larger than any that Solona has ever seen. One side an impressive seat covered with black velvet, the other side two elegant but uncomfortable looking leather armchairs.

“Please, take a seat, Miss Amell.” he offered. Solona sat down putting the folio on the table and slid just before Alexius. There was nothing ceremonious in her move, just cold practicality, although she forced a faint smile on herself.

Alexius opened it greedily, leafed it through until reached the last page. And that smug smirk on his face slowly turned to stupor. He looked at Solona, whose face was serious, as she leaned back in the armchair.

“What is the meaning of this, Miss Amell?” he inquired. No, not inquired, hissed with suppressed intimidation in his voice, trying everything to keep his composure.

“With all respect, I refuse your offer, Lord Du Grace,” she answered, readying her legs to stand up. “The Gryphon is not for sale. It belongs to Evelyn Trevelyan.”

He guffawed. “I thought a brilliant engineer like you is more ambitious and reasonable to not make toys for a spoiled rich girl who would never acknowledge your brilliance.”

“It seems I’m not,” she replied pushing herself up. “If you excuse me, I have other arrangements for today,” she curtsied. Alexius jumped up grabbing her wrist.

“Are you really _that_ sentimental, Miss Amell?” he hissed. “What can Evie offer that I cannot? I can give you everything to make you mighty and famous”

Solona peeled her wrist from his grip with a strong yank. “Do you know what I hate in people like you? You think you can buy everything with money. But there are things what are not purchasable. Talent, acknowledgment, loyalty, _dreams_.”

“Everything is purchasable, Miss Amell. We just have to know the price. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you,” Alexius voice became candied again but in the step he took toward her was filled with intimidation. But she did not fear him. She straightened herself and responded his challenging glare.

“You see the Gryphon, my work as a number on an account. Evie saw my vision when it was a pile of lines on a paper when it was nothing more than a too ambitious daydream of a silly girl who played engineer. I had the idea, the dream but Evie gave form to it. We did not build a machine, we built the notion of freedom. And there is no money in the world that can buy this.”

She turned on her heels and headed to the exit. It felt so wonderful. He stood out for herself for the first time, found her voice. It wasn’t about Evelyn or the Gryphon it was about herself, that she worth more to be a slave of a heartless son of a bitch.

“I have to warn you, Miss Amell. I always get what I want. One way or another,” he threatened her. “You don’t want me to be your enemy. I can take away _everything_ you worked for. Everything what is precious for you. I can make you so miserable that you will regret you have born”

Solona turned back from the door frame, smiling on him with certainty, making him to flinch. “I do not doubt it. But you know, I have made many mistakes in my life, Lord Du Grace. I have many regrets. But giving wings to Evelyn Trevelyan and not bargaining it to you are not among them,” and she turned to the exit again, almost pushing over the entering Mathilda with the tray of champagne with two glasses.

She found her voice. And it was _liberating_.

 

++++++++

 

There was never a time when Fort Drakon was not busy, between the blimp traffic and the guard headquarters. With a frown on her face, she had entered, had spoken to one Sergeant Blackwall, and then escorted upstairs to the second floor. She was determined to settle all her requirements today. Lord Du Grace was one problem, and hopefully, he would let things lie. Evie was another, but a visit to the Trevelyan Estate had puzzled her greatly. Evelyn was gone. She hadn't spoken to Evie for weeks since the day they argued in her factory. Stupid words were spoken, stupid, stupid words had driven the wedge between them. Evelyn may not be a part of her life, Solona had to fulfill this one dream, before all else. And the Gryphon was ready for her pilot.

As she walked along the corridor, she saw the name on one door and strode on ahead of Blackwall, opening the door unannounced as she ignored Blackwall's words for her to stop. She stared at the man at the desk, his blonde hair alight with the sunlight shining in from the window behind him, filling his cluttered office with the glitter of dust motes hanging in the air. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and was standing, holding a report in his hand.

Blackwall stood behind her. "A Miss Amell to see you, ser--" he said before Solona shut the door cutting him off.

She stared at the man, her nerves vibrating, twanging like an overdrawn string. It was this man - this man Evie was choosing. Was he worthy? He'd better be! If he was some fortune-grabbing opportunist... Solona would not let Evelyn be taken advantage of again! He was staring at her, waiting expectantly. "Can I--" he began.

"You are Cullen Rutherford!" Solona snapped.

"Yes, I am." He blinked as she stared at him, sizing him up. He was big, like most who made guarding a career. He was also messy. This sort of clutter would never be allowed in her lab. But this was a place he worked, unlike Alexius's office which was like a museum display. He was a hard worker. Probably not a money-grubber, unless he was desperate to elevate himself from labour. He frowned slightly. "How may I assist you, Miss Amell?" he asked.

She strode forward to the desk and set her hands on the table firmly. "You are courting Evelyn Trevelyan," she laid it bare. "I know about the Sword Club!" She wasn't prepared for his reaction. He nearly dropped his cup in surprise, his cheeks aflame. "I know you - this started so innocently when you cut her hand with a shard. You were all nice to her. You treated her injury. She treated your injuries. But she's silly and lonely and desperately seeking tenderness and validation! Don't try to hide anything from me," she snapped fiercely. "Answer me!"

"Answer what? You haven't asked me any questions! Maker's breath!" Cullen exclaimed, setting his cup down.

Solona stared at him, turning her words over in her head. "Oh. I didn't," she straightened up and crossed her arms, fighting back the embarrassed blush in her cheeks. "Right. Just checking if you were paying attention."

He stared at her incredulously. "Were you really?" he droned.

"What is your interest in her?" Solona demanded.

"Miss, this is highly inappropriate to ask me!" Cullen frowned though his cheeks reddened. "I don't even know who you are!"

"I'm Evelyn's engineer!"

Cullen stared. "Then why are you asking me--"

"Alistair says you are a good and well-endowed man, and I want to see it for myself!"

Cullen seemed to curl away from her. "...Pardon?" he asked slowly. "Well... endowed?"

"Yes. Well-endowed," she frowned impatiently. "Talented! You know what that means, don't you?"

"Andraste preserve me, I really don't think that's what Alistair--" he stared at her for a moment and seemed to give up. "Nevermind. If you know Alistair then you must be the one he's been carrying roses around for these days."

It was her turn to light up in a blush. "I am not here to talk about Alistair!" she said, sounding a little breathless. "Answer me! I asked you a question this time."

"Yes, you did..." Cullen was watching her, looking at her speculatively. "So you're the other sister..."

Solona blinked. "What?" she barked.

"Nothing, nothing." Cullen sighed. "I just want to help her, Miss Amell."

"How altruistic," Solona glared. "Are you playing with her?"

He gaped at her and shut his mouth. "No!"

"No 'sparrings'?"

"What? No!" He paused and his honeyed eyes turned aside in thought. "Maybe--"

Her hand struck the table, making him jump. She rested the other hand on her hip, her face heated and fierce. "If you hurt her, Cullen Rutherford... if you use her, hurt her, take her wings, Andraste preserve me - I will make you sorry!"

"That is not my intention!" Cullen snapped steel in his voice this time. "I am not the one who hurt her. Believe me. I am just trying to help her. If she... It won't even happen. I know who she is and what her-- her hand in-- I know what she comes with. It's impossible! But for a while... I just want to help her."

Solona stared at him. "What do you mean the one who hurt her?" she asked. "You know about Solas?"

Cullen's eyes widened. "Father Solas?" he tilted his head in puzzlement. "What did he do?"

Solona glanced aside. Maker, he didn't look like he knew about Solas... "Who hurt her? Tell me!"

"Alexius!" Cullen snapped, his voice hard. "Now tell me what Father Solas did!"

Solona's eyes glittered in return, her fiery anger turning to frost. "And you will tell me what Alexius did," she said evenly. "And where Evie is now."

 

++++++++

 

Solona walked on the Lane 9 thoughtfully, searching for her house among the dozens of same looking. Her genuine happiness of her newly found voice faded away after that Cullen had told her. They mutually swore secrecy to the other, not telling anything to Evelyn. Solona knew that Alexius was a son of a bitch…but this… and she almost sold the Gryphon to him. Solas and Evelyn were right. She was too smart to see obvious truths, just the things she wanted to see.

She found the number. House 37.

Solona opened the gate and passed through the small garden until she reached the door. A knot pulsated painfully in her throat what she couldn’t swallow. She knocked on it and soon Evelyn opened the door, her mouth slackened seeing her on her porch.

Solona’s face was serious, not showing anything in the storms inside her. Too many oaths, the looming shadows of the old mistakes made it impossible. Every time she wanted to help made things worse. And Evelyn did not need her anyway. She had Cullen, she had Ariris… and Solona had Alistair.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice was a mixture of blaming, sorrow, disappointment and maybe a bit of hope. “How did you find me?"

“I finished the recalibrations,” Solona stated dryly. “The Gryphon is ready for a test run. You can try it tomorrow morning. Try not to be late this time.” And before Evelyn could waken from her shock she turned on her heels and headed to the exit.

“Sol, wait,” Evelyn cried after her. Solona looked back on her, seeing as she wriggled her hands, searching for the right words. “T-thank you. I-I know this must have been a-”

“Whatever,” Solona cut her off, her voice and face still blank. “Just make sure you will be at my lab in time. I have better things to do than tinkering your toys,” and she began to take her steps again. But as she receded and the door did not close behind her she had to stop. She turned saw her still standing at the door, petrified, staring the ground beneath her.

“Evie,” Solona addressed her and she snapped her tear-streaked eyes on her. “I’m sorry… for _everything_.”


	34. Picnic

Perhaps it would have surprised the gentler part of society to know what Evelyn carried in her basket to the brothel. Lots of medicated oils for the back and sore muscles, napkins for monthly bloods, books and a dozen muffins. The girls were happy to see her, they knew her from her visits to Ari. They girls were all taller than her, and Evelyn felt and looked like a child in the middle of these very voluptuous women. When Ari descended the stairs, dressed in her silken dressing gown, Evelyn was surrounded in a flower garden, full of giggles and titters and muffins being passed around. Evelyn stilled when she saw Ariris standing at the foot of the stairs, those eyes as soft and gentle as the finest down. Evelyn tried to swallow the rising joy at seeing her. It had been too long, and Evelyn had been too proud to come, but things were different now.

Leaving the basket with the girls, Evelyn ran to throw her arms around Ariris. “Ari,” she breathed, her head nuzzled in Ariris’s chest. The familiar smell of her, always there, always safe. She felt Ariris’s arms come around her body as they embraced. A gentle hand touched her hair. Evelyn looked up, laughing, her eyes stupidly wet. “I missed you, Ari,” she smiled.

Ariris only smiled gently in return, her words spoken through her affectionate touches to Evelyn’s hair. “I wasn’t expecting you,” Ariris said.

Evelyn’s smile bloomed as it did when she was a child. “Are you free?” She asked. “I can some back another time if it’s not good today.”

“Why?” Ariris asked.

“It’s a lovely day! I thought we could go to the park? You don’t have to!” She held Ariris’s shoulders firmly, her eyes earnest. “Only if you want. I’m inviting, you’re under no obligation to say yes, not if you don’t want to, or busy or--”

“Evie,” Ari stilled her tumbling words with a gentle touch to the cheek. “Let me get dressed?”

Evelyn smiled breathlessly. “I’ll help you!” She offered. Evelyn did not make any demands. She wouldn’t be that sort, not anymore. Ariris would never say no to her, so she’ll have to make sure she didn’t demand anything. Evelyn helped Ariris into her dress, smiling as she enjoyed the quiet intimacy of helping someone into clothes. Like that morning, buttoning up Cullen’s uniform as she stood there as naked as the day she was born. Like that night when Evelyn brought Ariris to the opera. Except now, Ariris was her own woman, in her own dress, with her own life. Evelyn too…  “Evie?” Ariris said as Evelyn laced up her dress. “You’re sounding oddly excited.”

“What?” Evelyn blinked, the memory fading guiltily. She laughed awkwardly. “I’m not! You look beautiful, Ari. At least this time, I don’t feel so bad.” She stepped away from Ariris.

“Bad?”

Evelyn pouted. “You always used to make my dresses look so much better when you wore them than when I did. As far as I was concerned, I was wearing the dresses in until you wore them properly,” she said, looking for Ariris’s gloves. “It’s sunny, do you need a hat?”

Ariris’s eyes watered. “No,” she breathed. “I mean, yes, I do. In the wardrobe.”

Evelyn went to the wardrobe and opened it, seeing several hats on wicker heads on a shelf. “Which would you like?” She asked.

“The black one with wide brim.”

"Do you own anything that isn't black?l" Evelyn tiptoed, her boots twinkling under the hem of her walking dress, then managed to get the hat on the third try.

They were taken to the park in the carriage that waited outside the brothel. The park was once a market district, now turned into rolling manicured greens, weeping willows, ash and winding paths around a duck pond that glittered in the summer sun. Evelyn had a picnic basket which she brought with her as they emerged from the carriage, with Evelyn hopping off nimbly, then reaching around to help Ariris out of the carriage and into the sunshine. Immediately, Ariris opened her parasol despite her hat. They found a spot under a tree by the duck pond where Evelyn excitedly spread a blanket over the summer grass. “Sit down!” Evie said brightly, straightening out the blanket.

Ariris automatically reached for the basket.

“It’s alright, I know how to do it!” Evelyn grinned, unable to keep the pride from her voice as she unpacked the basket.

“You do?” Ariris blinked.

“I know,” Evelyn winced. “I was terrible before, wasn’t I? I couldn’t even make tea. But I can now!”

Evelyn set out the teapot and cups and two white china platters. She looked up then at Ariris, watching seemingly frozen in surprise. Ariris seemed to catch herself staring and sat down, her parasol still over her shoulder. Evelyn chuckled as she reached for a flask of hot water and prepared the tea. As she let the tea steep, she unpacked the food, sandwiches wrapped in cloth. Ariris stared at the slightly charred bits of ham in the bread, which was toasted rather unevenly. “I think your cook--” she began.

“I made these,” Evelyn said, feeling the heat come to her cheeks. She was so excited in the morning when she was cooking, chasing her cook out of the kitchen in the process. But suddenly her sandwiches looked terrible, the bits of lettuce looked sad and stale in the speckled sunlight. “I’m not very good at cooking,” she admitted. “Cull- I mean, I’m learning, but I guess I still have a lot to learn.” She chuckled awkwardly. “If they’re terrible, I brought - um-- biscuits…” Her voice trailed off, staring at the sandwiches on the plate.

Then an alabaster hand reached out and picked one up. “May I?” Ariris asked.

“Of course,” Evelyn said, watching Ariris with slight worry in her eyes. Ariris bit into the sandwich. Evelyn realized she was holding her breath.

“Very interesting,” Ariris said as she daintily chewed.

“Is it terrible?” Evelyn squeaked.

“Oh no, it’s lovely. I’ve just never had orange marmalade, lettuce and ham in a sandwich before.”

Evelyn let out a breath of relief. “They taste good, I thought, why not together?”

“Yes, why not indeed,” Ariris smiled, taking another bite.

Evelyn poured a cup of tea for Ariris. “One lump or two, Madame Lavellan?” She cooed in her snootiest butler voice.

Ariris laughed. “One,” she said. Evelyn dropped the little lump from the sugar jar into the cup, then handed it to Ariris. She settled down with her own cup of tea and sandwich. Then she realized why marmalade and ham were probably not a good idea. She wrinkled her nose at the sandwich. “I think I’ll try strawberry jam and pulled chicken next time,” she mused. “You think that will work?”

“I think it’s worth a try,” Ariris said, smiling like the sun.

“Pulling a chicken must be hard, though,” Evelyn mused. “It’s all slippery when not cooked. I wonder how you’re supposed hold on to it to pull it precisely.”

“Perhaps… you could let your cook prepare that part for you,” Ariris tittered.

Evelyn laughed and stuck her tongue out at her. “Alright, alright, I don’t know what on earth I’m doing in the kitchen, I admit it,” she said. “I am learning though. I just… There is a lot I have to learn.”

“You’re doing well,” Ariris consoled, her parasol propped daintily over her shoulder. “You made fried bread and ham.”

“The first fried bread I made was a disaster,” Evelyn laughed. “Absolute disaster. Then Cullen-- I mean, I learned eventually.”

Ariris glanced at her. “Cullen?” She asked primly.

Evelyn blushed as she hugged her knees. “If I start talking about him, I won’t stop,” Evelyn muttered.

“I don’t mind,” Ariris said, sipping her tea.

Evelyn glanced at her, smiling. “He’s lovely, Ari. I am… so happy I met him,” she turned her eyes to the duck pond. “He’s… he’s kind and funny and good-hearted and valiant and-- everything. He’s also a grumpy fellow when he doesn’t get his way or I’m not listening to him about the fire on the stove or when I walk around in my night dress. He’s gone through so much but he’s still so nice despite it… or maybe because of it. He’s not a gentleman, heaven forbid, but a gentle man.” She blushed so hard her cheeks felt hot as she hugged her knees tighter, burying her chin in the folds of her dress.  “And I… gave my flower to him,” she whispered.

Evelyn’s cheeks felt like they were boiling. “Argh! I sound like a lovestruck, mooning village girl!” She snarled, running her hand through her hair.

“Aren’t you?” Ariris smiled.

“What?”

“Lovestruck? You did give your virginity to him.”

Evelyn felt the fire in her cheeks flame anew. “You say that so calmly.”

“I am what I am, Evelyn,” Ariris sipped her tea. “Would you like to talk about it? The first time can weight on the mind. It’s harder when you’re not married or betrothed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pregnancy, of course. And pain. There might be tearing. Did he spill his seed in you? Did you bleed?”

“Ariris!” Evelyn choked. Ariris spoke as if she were commenting on the weather.

“Well, did he? It’s rather important.”

“He didn’t,” Evelyn muttered. “It was-- it was on my-- belly--” Evelyn held her cheeks, her skin on fire. “Maker, I cannot believe I’m talking about this in public.”

“Good, that was responsible of him,” Ariris nodded. “I should commend him.”

“Are you serious?” Evelyn croaked. “Don’t commend him on that please!”

Ariris laughed. “And did you bleed?”

“I should bleed?” Evelyn blinked. “I didn’t cut myself or anything.”

“I meant from your vagina.”

Evelyn choked a little. “N-no, I don’t think so. He didn’t hurt me, he wouldn’t. It looked bi-” Evelyn bit her tongue. Some things were best not said.

Ariris raised an eyebrow at that, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. “It isn’t that he wanted to hurt you. It’s natural to bleed. Some girls are unprepared and don’t open up fully within, they tear their vaginas. Perhaps he prepared you properly, opened you, aroused you. Regardless, your maidenhead would tear. So if you didn’t--” Ariris’s words fell silent.

Evelyn glanced at her, a sinking feeling rising within her. “I don’t think I did.”

“If your maidenhead has been broken before. It might be strenuous exercise that causes it to break. You rode horses so often as a girl.”

Evelyn looked aside. “Right,” she said, her voice tight. “Exercise.” Or it might have been something else, Evelyn knew. She took a long sip. Whatever it was, all those things Alexius forced her to do… she was using to pleasure someone worthy now. That was a quiet sort of revenge. And Cullen was bigger too. Take that, Alexius.

Ariris refilled Evelyn’s cup. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Evelyn blushed rosily. She nodded, setting down her teacup.

“Did you come?”

“Where?” Evelyn asked.

Ariris tittered. “To an orgasm. Where everything feels like it’s on fire, your loins shudder, your body arches and your feel like you’re--”

“Flying,” Evelyn said. She bit her lip. “I had something like that. I didn’t know girls had that too...” She sighed. “I sound so… silly, don’t I?”

“No,” Ariris smiled, patting her hand gently. “I know nobles don’t talk about things like this. He seems like a sweet man who cares for your enjoyment.”

Evelyn bit her lip. “I didn’t think about that,” she said. “I guess he is.”

“I’m happy for you,” Ariris said gently. Her words were sincere, but as always, everything about her was coated in a film of sorrow.

"Ari... There is a party. A festival, to celebrate the end of summer. It will be a grand ball. Masks, dancing, strict social etiquette. All of that dull stuff you love. Will you come with me? Please?" Evie looked up to her, squinting slightly in the sun. Her face had gotten serious. 

Ariris sighed and shook her head. "It _is_ rather dull, isn't it? All of it. I used to think it all so _magical_. Romantic, beautiful. Probably because it was always just out of my reach. And we always are drawn to the things we can't have, are we not? You wanted to be a poor girl from the dregs, running wild in the streets. I wanted to be a true and proper lady, with all that strict social etiquette." She smiled sadly to herself. "That's the irony, isn't it? When we get what we want, it isn't ever what we thought it was. I did used to love all that, yes. But I was a foolish little girl chasing stars. And I'm not a little girl anymore."

Evelyn glanced at her, a strange and intimate courage grasping her. “What you do... at the brothel... Does it… I mean the men, do they all do this? With you? When you... Do they make you fly?”

“No,” Ariris whispered, picking up her teacup and taking a sip. Evie watched her for a moment. "You _never_ enjoy it?"

Ari tried to smile for Evie, static and practiced, kind and vacant. “Perhaps one day, I will feel again.”

And there it was, that palpable sadness that permeated through her. Evelyn scooted over and hugged Ariris around the shoulders, quiet in her comforting. “I hope so too,” Evelyn murmured softly. “I want you to be happy. I hope… it happens. And I know it will, one day. Because otherwise, there is no Maker, and the world is black.”

Ariris touched her hand lightly. “It’s not, Evelyn,” Ariris whispered. “Not for you.”

 


	35. To Become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Suggested Listening - Divenire - Ludovico Einaudi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8SkX9CSJQo)

Evelyn approached Solona’s lab, her heart hammering. Solona had come to her. That in itself had said so much. Solona apologised too. Evelyn hefted the heavy bag she carried, her boots clapping on the cobbles. She wasn’t in her dresses today. She wore her breeches and a coat of leather. Today… Today Solona’s vision would become reality. With her foot, she pushed open the door to the laboratory and walked in. “Sol!” She called, her voice echoing. She slung the bag over her shoulder and headed to a bench. She stopped when she saw a man jogging towards her, coat off, suspenders hanging off his shoulders. “Officer Theirin!” She blinked.

“Lady Trevelyan!” Alistair grinned. “A pleasure to see you again. Cullen not with you, hm?” He reached out to take the bag from her.

“No,” she smiled, knowing when she was being wound up. “He’s likely on patrol, annoying nobles as always,” she said and let go of the bag once he had a grip on it.

Alistair sagged under the weight. “Maker’s breath!” He exclaimed, and heaved it onto his shoulder. “What’s in this?”

“Bits and pieces of stuff I got from Father’s labs, a gun, a few funny things that go zap, I have no idea,” Evelyn grinned at him, patting him on the shoulder and making him stagger a little. “What? Heavy?”

“No,” he lied and manfully carried the bag to Sol’s work bench.

“So,” Evelyn cooed, walking up behind him, her hands behind her back. “Officer Theirin and Solona, hmm?”

“Hmm? That’s hardly scandalous,” Alistair cooed back, discreetly rubbing his wrist from the strain.

“Hmm. Maybe…” Evelyn looked up at him playfully. “You’d better be nice to her, Alistair,” she said, her smile as sweet and bright as spring sunshine. “Or else, I will cut you up where the sun don’t shine.”

Alistair stared at her. “Are you threatening me?” He asked, sounding aghast.

Her smile did not change and her laughter fell like rain. “Of course not!” She chirped. “Where’s Sol?”

“On the roof with the Gryphon,” he said, staring at her.

“Yes!” She breathed and ran from him, heading to the stairs. Evelyn ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, the metal clanging under her boots. She threw open the door when she got to the top and stared at the wonder before her.

She had seen the pictures, but the Gryphon in real life was truly a thing of magnificence. It had two wings, folded up now, painted blue and silver. Two propellers were mounted behind a body shaped like a dragonfly. In the front was a seat like the saddle of a horse, a handlebar that Evelyn was familiar with was on the nose.

Solona emerged from behind the Gryphon, wearing oil-stained overalls, her hair done up in a bun held in place with a pencil.

“Sol,” Evelyn breathed, jogging over. “This is…” She was at a loss, looking up at the machine, her heart hammering in her ears.

“You remember what to do with the rig we tried, don’t you?” Solona asked seriously, though her green eyes softened at Evelyn’s reaction. “The flaps and their manipulation - what they did to the craft - remember?”

“It seems so long ago,” Evelyn breathed.

“It was only a few months, actually, just before this Red Jenny rubbish began. I hope you haven’t forgotten.”

Evelyn’s hand drew over the wing of the Gryphon, her eyes soft. It was like a dream - it was a dream. It was coming true. All the training she did with Sol. This was hers. This was theirs.

“Evelyn!” Solona fumed.

Evelyn blinked and looked up. “Sorry?” She asked, hugging the wing. “I’m in love! It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

Solona chuckled. “In love?” She asked. “What about Cullen?”

“Who?” Evelyn blinked with her huge blue eyes.

Solona laughed even more and handed Evelyn a helmet. “Do you need another run on the rigs?” She asked.

“No,” Evelyn breathed, heading to the seat.

“Maybe you should,” Solona frowned worriedly. “You have a parachute but it’s useless unless you get high enough. And if anything happens--”

“It’s all me,” Evelyn assured her. “Solona, I take full responsibility.” Alistair emerged from the door, bearing a packed parachute. Evelyn ran to get it from him and put it on, all the while, Solona was speaking in a urgent litany of flight preparation and the fine tuned controls. Evelyn repeated her words, listening intently even as she strapped the parachute on. “No rises over forty degrees,” Evelyn said as Solona finished. “Anything else?” She asked.

Solona bit her lip. “No,” she said finally, glancing at the Gryphon. “Please be careful.”

“Do you need any data while up there?” Evelyn asked, climbing onto the seat and pressing a button with her thumb, her expression deathly serious. The engine fired to life, thrumming under her. She bit back her excitement. She could die. The threat of death always helped to mellow the mind. She tucked her hair into her helmet and pressed the goggles over her eyes. She looked over her shoulder and twisted the handles, the flaps of the wings turning at her command. Then, she hit another button and the propellers began to spin.

“I just need you to be safe!” Solona shouted over the roar of the propellers. “Please, Evie!”

“I’ll be safe,” Evelyn assured her. Alistair took hold of the ropes attached to the wedges that blocked her wheels.

“And come back!” Solona said, stepping back. “Please!”

“I won’t let you down, Sol,” Evelyn said, revving the engine, the plane straining to move.

“That’s not what I meant!” Solona shouted, the wind from the propellers tossing her hair. The wings of the Gryphon slowly folded down.  

“I know. Pull!”

Alistair pulled the wedges aside and the Gryphon started to roll. Evelyn stopped thinking, all her mind focused on the task at hand. She could feel the rumbling of the wheels over the tiles of the roof, she could feel the wind picking up, the lurch in her belly as she dropped off the roof and rose over the street, the screams of the people below.

It was only then that she looked down. She was flying, the city below her, stretching out into the distance. And she was flying! Her heart soared with the thought, her skin broke into goosebumps as she realized this simple fact. Nothing was holding her, not even gravity. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to go crazy with the controls.

There was the horizon in the distance, so close she could bite it. The sky an endless swathe of blue above her, clouds within reach. She grinned and let out a holler of joy as she rose, her body churning with the forces of her rise as she chased the clouds, riding the very wind.

 

+++++

 

Solona watched as the craft started to trundle off, accelerating to the edge of the roof. Her heart was in her mouth, if anything went wrong, it would be all her fault! She did not want Evelyn to die! She bit her lip, torn between covering her eyes and staring intently. Then the craft dropped off the roof and for a moment that seemed like an eternity, it vanished from sight before it soared up into the sky to the gasps and screams from below. Solona sucked in a breath and ran to the edge of the roof, watching the craft rising, Evelyn a shrinking dot in the heights.

The world wavered in her vision as her tears gathered. Evelyn was flying. Her wings were complete. Solona’s dream was complete. The Gryphon was flying. “I can’t believe it,” she heart by her ears, Alistair stepping up next to her.

Reality closed in on her then. The Grpyhon was flying. At last. Solona threw her hands in the air and screamed through the tears and the joy. The Gryphon was flying. This was real. She didn’t realize she was jumping. She didn’t realize she was screaming. She didn’t realize she was crying and hugging Alistair. The Gryphon was flying. Clinging to him, she raised her eyes to the sky, the speck that was Evelyn fading into the clouds.

Solona felt a pang of longing. But if anyone deserved to fly, after everything she had gone through, after all the pain… it was Evelyn.

Then the speck emerged from the clouds and veered around to the roof. That was a short flight. Worry gripped her. Had something gone wrong? She let Alistair go and ran as the Gryphon landed. “What’s wrong?” Solona cried, Evelyn stopping in the middle of the roof. “What happened?”

Evelyn looked up, her face ruddy from the flight. “Alistair, can you get her goggles?” She asked then.

Alistair shot her a grin and ran into the factory.

“What?” Solona blinked. “What was the flight like? Any malfunctions? Was the response good? I need to calibrate it right?” She fussed over the craft even as the propellers drowned her words. Alistair returned then with a pair of goggles. He slipped the goggles on over her glasses. Solona blinked as the goggles settled on her face. “What’s this?” She exclaimed.

“Get on the Gryphon, Solona,” Evelyn said, her voice tight and breathless.

Solona stared at her. “It’s not calibrated for two!”

“She can take it,” Evelyn assured her. “She’s like a horse under me, no sudden turns and we’re golden.” She held her hand out to Solona. “Fly with me, Sol.”

Solona gasped. “I- I- can’t-- these are your wings--”

“They are yours,” Evelyn said firmly. “And they will always be yours. You deserve this.”

Solona’s heart hammered in her ears as she glanced at Alistair, who smiled and jerked his head to the craft. Swallowing, Solona took Evelyn’s hand and was helped up into the seat behind her. “I’m really not sure about this,” Solona whispered.

Evelyn wrapped Solona’s arms around her waist tightly. Then she revved the engine once more. Solona shut her eyes and felt the craft rumbling her her as it moved. Then a twist in her stomach that made her yelp in fear, clutching Evelyn tighter. There was only the roar of wind in her ears over the drone of the propeller.

“Open your eyes!” She heard.

Solona slowly did so, and gasped at the sight below her. She felt the cold fingers of the wind running through her hair, pulling it free from its bun, her pencil tumbling to the earth. The city flowed below her, the Drakon winding through Denerim. Fort Drakon was alive with blimps, and there, atop a hill, was the Palace. In the distance, the Frostbacks clawed at the sky, the clear air, letting their vision stretch forever… Solona felt it rising, the unbridled joy as Evelyn flew steady. She was flying too. On her invention. Then Evelyn started to rise through the clouds and for a chilly breathless moment, Solona couldn’t see anything. Then, just like rising from the very sea, they emerged from the clouds and she saw the sun before them, hanging in the air over a rolling sea of clouds, the sky above a vast blue expanse that faded to white in the zenith.

Solona let go of Evelyn slowly. She raised her arms and felt the wind around her, carrying her to the heavens, to the arms of the Maker. And she screamed again, screaming to her mother and father, for she was sure they could hear her there. Screaming to the sky and to the ear of eternity itself. It was done, and her voice carried over the earth, a single note of pure joy.


	36. To Lake Calenhad

Outside, the world moved by with the gentle clopping of the coach horses’s hooves. The Bannorn was a swathe of green under the blue sky, stained by the setting sun. The coach journey had been surprisingly comfortable - the seats were very well padded, ample room was provided for all of them. It was another of Evelyn’s spur of the moment acts of thoughtless generosity. Let’s all go to the Orlesian Ambassador’s Firefly Ball. Cullen had to attend anyway, representing the Guards. Evelyn was attending on behalf of her own estate, and because she knew the Orlesian Ambassador personally from finishing school. And so she had whisked him away. Again. At least this time Evelyn asked him before she whisked him away. Flying off on the Gryphon was not… was not the most ideal way Cullen wanted to travel. His knees were weak when he got off the machine, but Evelyn had been bouncing as if she just rode a delightfully frisky horse. But that was months ago.

She had brought along Solona, and since she needed a date, Alistair too, whom Cullen suspected had never worn a formal suit since he graduated. They sat opposite him and Evelyn, both asleep, heads leaning on each other’s. And Ariris as well. Evelyn said she would take care of everything, apparently. Cullen looked at the chessboard propped on a table between the seats. Ariris sat opposite him, looking down at the chessboard, pondering her next move.

Cullen let his thoughts drift as he waited. Evelyn’s father would be at the ball. That… that was not a meeting Cullen was looking forward to, but Eve was insisting. And Cullen agreed, despite his hesitation. What they were doing was… wonderful. But they had to make things proper between them. Cullen choked at the thought, his eyes staring at the words in the book but his mind elsewhere. Could he make this proper? He was a Guard from peasant stock, no one outside the service knew him. Now he was going to ask for her hand in… His throat felt dry, his stomach twisting. He shut the book in frustration. Maker… this was… Madness. So why was he considering this so seriously?

The blimps flew overhead, sunlight lengthening. Summer was ending, but in the west of the country, where there were cooler days on Lake Calenhad near the Frostbacks, the fireflies were going to cluster. And Evelyn spoke at length about how she loved the fireflies. If he could ask her then… he could imagine her eyes, how they would light up, her eyes like beacons, her breath coming quickly, it would be… He blushed, running his hand over his mouth and chin. It would be… adorable. She was adorable. Their children would be adorable. Unless they got his genes, the poor things.

He glanced at Evelyn, curled up on the empty seat, her legs tucked on the seat. Her head was on his thigh like a pillow, and he realized he was stroking her hair as if she were a cat. As he hooked his finger on a lock of her hair to move it from her eyes, she muttered something unintelligible and swatted his hand away. Then she settled back to sleep, still muttering.

“She does that a lot, doesn’t she?” Ariris murmured, sounding so endlessly sad. Almost lost.

“Yes,” Cullen replied quietly. “Especially when she’s dreaming.” He froze. “Uh, I mean--”

“I know.” Ariris smiled.

“Really?” Cullen tried to look non-pulsed.

Ariris held the pawn in her thin fingers, rolled it between them. She did not look at him as she spoke. "Evie and I have slept more nights together than apart. I do hope she at least allows  _you_ have some of the blankets." 

"You... what? Slept... together?!" Cullen could feel beads of sweat surfacing near his collar and hairline. He knew Ariris was of a lewd profession but never that... 

Ari set her pawn down, moved it with a thoughtful grace. "Not like that."

Cullen cleared his throat, trying to focus on his pieces. "No, of _course_ not. Evelyn tells me... you... um. That you were her attendant?" Ariris smiled to herself. "That's a polite way of saying servant, and yes. I _attended_ to Evelyn for many years. I came into their service when I was five years old. I left when I was seventeen. We were very close as children. When I left... well, Evie and I have remained... friends."  Ari moved her rook. “I know about you and Evie, Cullen."

Cullen moved his castle, reddening. "You do?"

"Yes. Evelyn’s mother passed a long time ago, she needed some practical guidance,” Ariris said plainly.

Cullen felt his cheeks heating up despite himself. “Oh. Wait. Guidance?" 

“Please ensure you do not get her pregnant. She does not love Alexius, but she is betrothed to him all the same by her father's demands. An unwed pregnancy is no scandal to common folks like us. For someone like Evie..." Ari could tell by the shade of Cullen's face he was listening. She didn't need him to respond, just to hear.  "Does she still kick?”

“I can endure it,” he said. “But not often. She makes an effort to knot her feet in her blankets.”

“She used to do that when we shared a bed too. It was so long ago.” She moved another pawn, took one of his.

Cullen looked down at his own pieces. He moved a piece, then startled when Evelyn’s heel slammed hard into the door, rousing Alistair and Sol with a start. “Maker,” Cullen sighed. And the coach started on cobbles as they entered through the gates of West Hills, the most elite of summer residences for nobility. "She has nightmares, often. Cries out in her sleep. ...Watch." Ari stood, lift the black of her skirts. She kneeled down next to Evelyn, hovering just above her ear. Cullen watched in interest as Ari started to sing, some strange song, so softly it was barely even audible.

 

_"Elgara vallas, da'len_

_Melava somniar_  
_Mala taren aravas_  
_Ara ma'desen melar_

_Iras ma ghilas, da'len_  
_Ara ma'nedan ashir_  
_Dirthara lothlenan'as_  
_Bal emma mala dir_

_Tel'enfenim, da'len_  
_Irassal ma ghilas_  
_Ma garas mir renan_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas"_

 

Evie stilled, nuzzled against Cullen's thigh, whatever dreams she had chased away by the sound of Ari's voice. Ariris stood, returning sadly to her seat. That would probably be the last time she ever sang that song. She had sang it to Evie through out the years, and had later sang it to Edvard as well. Honeybee had only sang when it wanted food. Ariris wondered how long it had taken honeybee to die without Evelyn-- wondered how long it would take her to die without Evie. Ari had never had to share Evelyn before. She had always had Solas, and even after he had left, Evie remained. But now...

“She kicks like a fuckin' mule,” Alistair noted, rubbing his eyes, even as Solona settled back into her nap.

“Yes,” Cullen muttered, rubbing his neck, remembering their tussle on the roof. “We might as well wake up proper, since we’re in town.”

Ariris nodded, starting to pack away the chess pieces. He shook Evelyn awake. She snorted and sat up, her hair a mess, blinking sleep from her eyes. “Are we there yet?” She muttered.

“You tell us,” said Cullen.

She smoothed her hair and peered out the window. Then she opened the door and climbed to the front of the coach. Cullen sighed again. At least it was better than her sitting on the roof of the coach. Which she did, on the journey through the quieter part of the Highway across the Bannorn. Twice. Once with a cup of tea to enjoy the sunshine. Life with Evelyn was never dull.

Their coach clattered through the town now. This was clearly a noble’s town, with wide boulevards lined with trees, cafes that opened to the street, hardly any poor people in sight. It was an oddity, to Cullen. Surely the poor were somewhere. They rounded a fountain in the middle of a square, water sparkling from the crown of Andraste. Then the hatch in the front of the coach opened, Evelyn’s face appearing. “Wake Sol,” she said, her voice businesslike. “We’re almost at the dress shop. Cullen, you’re wearing your formal uniform to the ball, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he replied. Alistair was shaking Solona awake.

“I guess you’re going to be bored,” she fussed. “Might as well bring a book. The rest will be having their fittings.”

“What?” Alistair stared at her. “What fittings?”

“For your suit,” Evelyn frowned.

“I have a suit!”

“I took a peek, it’s black.”

“It’s formal!” Alistair paused. “You looked in my bag?”

“Alistair, you look like a pallbearer all in black. Or a penguin. I’ll handle it. Grays and blues would be nice.”

“But I like my black suit!”

“You’re welcome, Alistair!” Evelyn cooed and shut the panel.

Alistair shot Cullen an accusing glance.

“Don’t look at me,” Cullen said smoothly. “You do look pale all in black, though.”

“Traitor,” Alistiar muttered.

The coach soon stopped outside a two-storeyed building, elegantly decorated with Orlesian pillars all along the facade. Cullen was beginning to be pleased he wasn’t getting fitted for a suit, seeing the fashion of the men that passed their coach. Ruffles were apparently in season. This did not escape Alistair, who wrinkled his nose and said nothing.

The door opened and to Cullen’s complete lack of surprise, he saw Evelyn standing there with her hand on the door. “Where are we?” Solona blinked in the sudden sunlight.

“Maker!” Evelyn sighed and took Sol’s hand, pulling her from the coach. “You need the most help.”

“Meaning?” Solona puffed her cheeks.

“Meaning we’re wasting time!”

Cullen offered Ariris his hand as she carefully disembarked, opening her parasol the moment she stepped down onto the pavement.

Evelyn bustled them into the shop like a mother hen. Within the store, they were greeted by a bowing skinny man with glasses like the bottoms of bottles. He spoke to Evelyn in rapid Orlesian and she replied just as quickly. Cullen could already see Solona and Ariris being escorted to the second floor by very prim ladies. “The men’s section is over that way,” Evelyn said to Alistair and Cullen. “I’ll be with Sol and Ari.”

“No ruffles,” Alistair said firmly.

“Oh Alistair!” Evelyn sighed. “I don’t care if you dress up with a goose across your shoulder!” She glanced at the stairway through which Solona and Ari had been led through to make sure they were out of ear shot. She looked at him seriously then. “This is Sol’s first ball. She’s… never been to one. She never had a debutante ball because she was preparing for university. Not that she cared, she called it a marriage mart. Which was accurate, come to think of it, but that’s not the point!” She waved her hand irritably. “The point is she’s going to be there - with you. That means more than a debutante ball. It’s ten times more special. So… be… cooperative!”

Alistair’s eyes softened. He sighed theatrically, his fingers fiddling with his sleeve. “I hear you,” he said. “What do I have to do?”

“She’s wearing green, most likely, with that hair of hers,” Evelyn said. “So pick something that complements that. Maurice should he able to advise you. And pick up your mask. I… commissioned one. It’s a gryphon.”

Alistair stared at her. “Why a gryphon? That’s an odd choice.”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” She asked. She glanced at Cullen then and her face seemed to light up in a blush. “Y-you have one too, Cullen. Uh.” And she gathered her skirts hurriedly, turning to leave.

Cullen blinked. “I do? What of?” He asked.

“A lion!” She said, rushing to the stairs.

“Why?”

She stopped halfway up the stairs, her ears aflame. She looked over her shoulder and glanced at Alistair in embarrassment. “B-because you are-- very brave t-to be-- Ugh! Stop wasting time, you both!” She turned away and ran up the stairs, almost tripping before vanishing around the bend.

A lion? That was painfully Orlesian, but… very brave? Lionhearted? Did she really think of him that way? Someone nudged him in the ribs. Alistair was leering. “Lion, huh? Do lions stand there blushing and smiling?”

Cullen glared at him. “Do gryphons ask stupid questions?” He retorted.

Alistair chuckled. “Gryphons…” he shook his head. “A dream come true. She’s bossier than Meredith but…”

“Underneath it all, she cares,” Cullen finished. “She really does.”

“You know she’s probably talking about the Carta, don’t you?” Alistair asked as they moved to follow Maurice.

Cullen felt his mind shut down, but his heart swelled. “I know.”

“Aren’t you glad I talked you into letting her come up to your room that day?”

Cullen chuckled. “Yes, actually. You do have good ideas. Occasionally.”

“I’ll take that praise.”

“I suppose I should be happy it’s a lion.” Maurice held open a door for them to stepped into an elegantly appointed fitting room.

“Oh?”

“It could have been a honeybee.”


	37. Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Suggested Listening - La Parade - Lisa Germano and Yann Tiersen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avyeoTMwGjg)

The Trevelyan manor was grand, situated on a hill among other manors of similar status. The manor itself was two-storeyed, painted blue in the Orlesian style, with white and gold accents. Their coach drove them up an ornate yard around a glittering marble fountain. Evelyn was the first off the carriage, then she helped out Solona, who was not taking to her corset well. “Breathe,” Evelyn advised. “Small breaths, and small snacks, everything will be fine.”

Solona whimpered and stepped onto the gravel. “I cannot believe you and Ari wear this all the time.”

“Not all the time, obviously,” Ariris said primly as Cullen helped her off the carriage.

Solona straightened up. “I’m fine. I can do this,” she said evenly, holding her hands out. “Remind me why I’m doing this again?”

“Because if you don’t get used to it now, later you might faint,” Evelyn said. “Again.”

“This is ridiculous,” Cullen said. “Do you really need her to wear this all day?”

"I wear it all day,” Evelyn pointed out.

“Yes, I know, but--”

“It helps, it straightens your back and makes you eat less and--”

“Is that why you’re so short?” Alistair asked as he disembarked. “Because you didn’t eat much because of corsets?”

Evelyn’s glare nailed him to the coach door. “My mother was a small woman,” she growled. Then beamed again, her smile as bright as sunshine. “Anyway, our things will be brought to our rooms. We each have our own rooms, all on the same floor, same hallway--”

Cullen and Alistair glanced at each other, something unspoken passing between them.

Evelyn took a deep breath and settled herself. Masks. This was all about masks, even if she was terrified they wouldn’t have a good time. She so desperately wanted them to be happy. She beamed up at them. “This way, if you please!” She said brightly. “I’ll show you to your rooms!”

They all walked on, chattering with an easily lightness. Evie stopped when she realized Ariris had fallen behind, turned to look at her. She stood near the carriage under the shadow of her parasol, looking up at the house. Evelyn's stomach knotted. The last time Ariris had stayed at the estate was after Solas had left her. Evie and Ariris had come to the Lake House often, but there were more in those halls than childhood memories. And even those, Evelyn realized, were different. Not only of dolls and tea, but of hard work, blistered hands and burns from irons. 

This was supposed to be happy, fun. Evie was determined for it to be that way. "Come along, Ari!" She shout, watching Ariris as she dutifully came forward. 

"I was just going to show them to their rooms. You know where yours is You can stay in the room you stayed in when we took extended holiday here!" She chirped. "I do not want to stay in that room." Ariris said with a hardness Evie had not expected. The room that she had stayed in after Evelyn insisted they leave Denerim for a while, after Edvard. "I will sleep in the servant's quarters." 

Evie's mouth went wide, but she had not been able to respond before Ariris marched ahead, her chin raised. Evie thought to say that Ari could sleep with her, as they had always done-- and for a moment, almost forgot the man standing next to her. Ariris clearly had not. 

The mansion was large, but not as ostentatious as other noble neighbours. Evelyn bustled about, showing them to their rooms, where their bags would be brought up. Each of the women had a private room with en-suite baths. Evelyn kept apologizing for having Alistair and Cullen sharing a guest room. “Dinner should be at about six,” Evelyn fussed. “So I’ve had a meal prepared. It will be in the upstairs parlour, just down the hall. You should have enough time to rest and change a bit. Keep an eye on the water clocks.”

“You have water clocks?” Cullen smiled as the others dispersed to their rooms.

“I have water clocks,” said Evelyn, bringing her thumb nail to her teeth and fretfully nipping it. Cullen reached up and firmly but gently pulled her hand away from her mouth. She sighed. “I feel less nervous at board meetings,” she muttered. She looked up at him worriedly. “Do you have all you need?”

“Where’s your room?” He asked, holding her hand in his.

“It’s down the hall, honeybee,” she pointed absently. “six isn’t too early for a meal, is it? Seven?”

“Can I see your room, pup?” His voice was gentle.

“It looks just like yours, Cullen,” she said, her thumb coming to her lip again. Cullen reached out and pulled it away. She tsked and looked up at him in irritation, but his smile was patient, with a cheekily suggestive cock to his eyebrow. “Oh.” It dawned on her. She smiled and tiptoed to drop a kiss on his chin. “Let’s go see my room then.”

 

++++

 

It was later in the day when Evelyn had been… suitably calmed that Cullen rushed back to his room to get ready for dinner. He’d had a bath. With Evelyn, but that was besides the point. He needed another bath anyway, after his exertions. He entered to find his clothing already in his room, surprisingly hung up in a closet by servants. Alistair’s was hung as well, but the man wasn’t in the room. Cullen suspected he knew where Alistair was. He decided to take another bath.

As Cullen sat in the tub, cleaning himself, he couldn’t help but feel that tendril of guilt that came every time he and Evelyn made love. His affection for her was real, he knew that much. He loved being with her, her smiles, her moods, her mewls when he touched-- Cullen shook his head. Alistair would be coming in at any moment and he didn’t want to be caught in a compromising position in the tub. The point was, that he knew every time they came together, it was… irresponsible. If she got pregnant, so much in her life would be ruined. If he asked her to marry him… so much in her life would be compromised. But damn it all, he wanted to marry her. He wanted her to have his child - in the future. He wanted a family with her. He didn’t want her to move on, not from him. “Fuck,” he muttered and sighed heavily. He stood up, water cascading from his shoulders as he reached for the soft towels provided for them.

When he emerged from the bath, towel wrapped around his waist, the door flung open and Alistair  appeared, his hair in disarray, his clothes ruffled. Cullen raised an eyebrow, quietly smirking.

Alistair saw him staring and had the decency to blush slightly as he shut the door. “Cullen! There you are. I was looking all over for you,” Alistair cleared his throat, averting his glance.

“In Solona’s room?” Cullen asked.

“Should I have checked Evie’s?” Alistair asked loftily.

Cullen chuckled and went to the closet. “You should hurry, it’s almost dinner time.”

“I know, I lost track of time,” Alistair sighed and went to the bath, leaving the door ajar. They did share a dorm in military school, there were few secrets between them. Cullen started to take his clothes out of the closet, his thoughts weighing heavily on his mind. “Alistair,” he muttered, frowning as he held his suit hung on a hanger. “I… I’m thinking of--”

“The brown suit? Please do. You look boring in gray,” Alistair said from the bath over the sound of the filling tub.

Cullen rolled his eyes and reached for the brown suit instead. “I am thinking of asking her, Alistiar!” He said in exasperation.

“Asking what?” Alistair asked from the tub, his voice carrying over the sloshing of water.

The words stuck in his throat, his heart suddenly hammering in Cullen’s ears. Maker if he couldn’t get the words out to Alistair, it was hopeless, he’d never be able to ask Evie! Why was this so terrifying? He steeled himself, gritting his teeth. “For her to marry me,” he managed. From over his shoulder he heard the splashing of water. He turned to see Alistair at the door of the bath, looking at him incredulously. Cullen rolled his eyes and looked away. “Maker, Theirin!”

“What did you say again?” Alistair asked.

Cullen grit his jaw. “I want to ask her to marry me,” he said once more. It came easier this time. There was silence. Cullen felt himself wither a bit inside. “I know,” he said as he started pulling on his clothes. “It’s stupid--”

“No, it’s not,” Alistair said. “I just… I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

“So soon?” Cullen asked and winced when he saw Alistair still standing at the door. “Maker, can we discuss this without me having to look at you naked?”

Alistair chuckled and went back into the tub. Cullen sighed in relief. “I guess I was expecting it,” Alistair said from within the bath, his voice carrying over the sloshing of water. “Just not so soon. Not this year.”

Cullen frowned in puzzlement. “Why were you expecting it?” He asked, unable to stem the curiosity.

“You’re always so serious, Cullen. About work, about everything. I guess I imagined you’d take your women seriously too. How are you going to ask her?”

“You’re alright with the idea?” Cullen asked, somewhat surprised.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“She’s nobility--”

“So?”

Alistair’s flippant tone annoyed Cullen, even if he knew his friend didn’t mean it that way. “And also the heir to Trevelyan Industries. I don’t think her family would be pleased to have me in the picture. What if they--”

“Cullen, I am literally the bastard heir to the throne, so I know how stupid this nobility rubbish is. Besides, that’s Evie’s decision, isn’t it?”

Cullen fell silent as he buttoned on his shirt. It was Evie’s decision. All the complications of his own birth and class aside, whether she wanted to face them or not was her decision. Alistair thought he was serious about his women? That was an odd revelation. Perhaps he shouldn’t have allowed himself to fall for… the thought withered in his mind. He couldn’t even finish it. He couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else. He sighed in resignation.

“How are you proposing?” Alistair asked again from the bath.

“I… don’t know,” Cullen said. “She said there might be fireflies.”

“Get her aside among the fireflies? All alone in the dark, maybe she’s too busy quivering in the darkness to say no.Nice, Rutherford.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “You’re being extraordinarily unhelpful,” he snapped.

“Got a ring?”

Cullen nearly swallowed his tongue. “Not-- n-not entirely--” his words mumbled off into incomprehension.

“So ring then?” Alistair called.

“She doesn’t wear rings,” Cullen sighed. “I’ve never seen her wearing anything more ostentatious than earrings. And she fights with swords. Rings get in the way.”

Alistair chuckled. “Yup, you go well together.”

“It’s not mandatory, is it?” Cullen said.

“Well, you have to give her something. Something of value at least. How else is she going to wake up believing it was all real and not a dream?”

Cullen chuckled despite himself, and his mind drew to his most precious thing. Yes, that seemed appropriate.

Then Alistair asked the question at the back of Cullen’s mind. “What about her fiance?”

Cullen stilled. “Her father wants her to marry,” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “I don’t think he knows yet. I need to clarify that with him.”

Alistair was silent for a moment, the air thick with thought. “Right,” he said finally. Cullen started to knot his tie, and heard a sigh from the bath. “Marriage, huh?”

 

 

 ---//---

 

They sat around the large mahogany dining table. Evelyn sat at the head, Cullen to her right and Ari on her left. Solona set next to Ariris, and Cullen next to Alistair. In the background, a new and incredibly expensive sound machine played, quietly grinding out a string quartet to accompany their dinner. When the last of them were seated, Evelyn cleared her throat. Board meetings were easier than this. "Thank you all for coming everyone," she said, feeling her heard beating faster. Stupid, these were her friends, why was she so... worried? She pushed the thought aside and continued, "It means a lot to me... for us all to be together like this. It is friendship and love that make life worth living... and sometimes, it's easy to lose sight of that. Get caught up in things that... don't matter." Evie squeezed Cullen's hand beneath the table. "What matters now, is that we are together. And tomorrow morning, we will leave for the ball, enjoy some respite from these distractions." She smiled brightly. 

Evelyn picked up the small silver handled bell and rang it, altering the servants they were ready for their meal. Women began to trickle in, carrying the first course of soups. They dipped at the knees politely and said nothing, but passed resentful glances to Ariris. Ari knew these women. They had been women when she was a girl... and now they were old, folded and frail things. Ariris stared at her forks as she was served, gripping the cap of her knee beneath the table.  "I hope you like the menu," Evie grinned. "This is a cheese based soup, Alistair. Solona told me how much you enjoy various cheeses."

Alistair stared at her, his eyes widening. "You can put cheese in soups?" he asked, his voice hollow with awe. 

"Of course!" Evelyn laughed. 

"Sol, you never told me cheese goes in soups too," Alistair breathed. 

Solona rolled her eyes. "You're going to get fat eating all this cheese."

"Cheese doesn't make you fat," Alistair grinned as he laid his napkin across his lip.

"Alistair," Solona began. "Really--"

"Cheese doesn't make you fat," Alistair smiled brightly. 

"No, Alistair, cheese does not make you fat and there really is a fairy that took your teeth from under a pillow when you were a child," Cullen chuckled. He looked at Solona. "Best to leave him to his happy delusions. He whines. Like the time he found out bread made you fat too."

"What? Bread does not make you fat," Alistair beamed as he picked up slices of garlic bread for his cheese soup. "And I'll cut you if you say otherwise, Rutherford. But I won't cut you if you say it, Sol. I'll just cry a bit into my cheese soup and dry my tears with bread."

"Maker's breath!" Solona sighed in exasperation. "That's disgusting! And you are impossible!"

Cullen shrugged at Solona, who couldn't help but laugh. Evie watched them as she held her spoon, then seemed to sigh in relief when they began to eat. 

"Everything will be fine, Evie. Thank you." Cullen leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. "Stop fretting. The food is wonderful."

"It will be wonderful, because I did not cook it," she smiled again, eyeing Ariris, noting that she did not pick up a spoon, or sip at her wine. She only sat silently as everyone else ate. Evelyn's brow furrowed, but she did not want to say anything to Ariris, or insist that she ate. Ari had to make her own choices. Evie had to learn to live with them.

When the main course came out, the woman who carried the silver platter seemed to struggle under it's weight. Years of hard labor had not been kind to her joints, and her movements were stiff and painful. Ariris pushed her chair away from the table suddenly, the legs scraping against the floor. "Maggie. Please." She scurried to the woman, took the tray from her. Maggie smiled a small, secret smile and whispered so quietly nobody else could hear. "Good to see you haven't forgotten where yous come from, Spook." 

Ariris set down the tray and began to carve the roast, a look of annoyance settling on her face. She served Evelyn the first slice, then Cullen, then Alistair, then Solona. She did not serve herself. "Ariris..." Evie spoke sweetly through her careful smile, "please sit down. You are a _guest."_

Ariris raised her eyes to Evelyn and held them. "Yes Evelyn." She sat dutifully, her hands in her lap. 

 

At the end of the table, Solona and Alistair were getting caught up in the conversation about what else cheese could be put into. Evelyn saw Cullen drawn in, saying with his ever-serious face that cheese was a very good face cleanser. Alistair was disbelieving, bringing up the time in their youth when Cullen had told him cheese helped clear pimples. Alistair believe it until he tried it. Evelyn snorted into her wine glass when she heard that. Dinner progressed, but Ariris did not eat. Evelyn said nothing. She didn't want to force her. She just wanted Ariris to enjoy herself as her guest. 

Soon, the servants came to gather their empty plates away. Ariris once more rose to help, gathering plates and piling them. Evelyn couldn't take it. "Ari, I'm sure they can handle it," she said quietly, as the conversation carried on at the table. 

"If you think so, Evelyn, you are blinder than I thought," Ariris muttered. 

Evelyn glanced at the elderly servants and realized what Ariris meant. She felt a tendril of shame creeping over her. "Then I can help, I have all these muscles, might as well use them." Evelyn began to stack up the dishes atop eachother, with no method. Plates with the flatware still on it sat atop bowls, cups atop plates.

"Evelyn, maybe you should stop," Ariris said.

"It's fine, Ari, just bring them down to the kitchens, I know where they are." When Evie tried to move the stacks, they toppled noisily. Undeterred, she tried again. The conversation had faded around her. She was aware of the others looking at her. Can't even carry a pile of dishes, Evelym, she imagined the words in their heads.

"That's not how you do it," Cullen said, folding his napkin and setting it aside. "You put the--"

Ariris smiled a small, snarky smile. "Perhaps Solona should refresh your memory as to how gravity works. Just sit, Evie. You don't know what you're doing."

Cullen watched Evelyn's face fall, her arms full of dishes. She looked far more sad than insulted. "There is only one way to learn." His voice was soft but scolding. "Besides, she is only trying to help." 

Evelyn burned in their gaze, her thoughts searing in the fires of embarrassment like snow in a blowtorch. Thoughtlessly, she put a bowl atop her armful of dishes and lost her grip. Plates and bowls cascaded from her arms, spilling across the table, making Alistair and Solona jump up from their seats to avoid the crumbs and liquids spattering the tabletop. Ariris' face snapped to Cullen, the catty amusement gone. "But she _isn't_ helping." Her white eyes flicked to Evie. "She's simply making more work for everyone else for her own amusement."

Evelyn's eyes lowered. Even when she tried to help... With dishes, of all things. She failed. She made things difficult. All she was good for was being a trophy wife. Sit around, do, say, be nothing else-- Her thoughts collided into a wall of rage and stubborness coming the other way. She was not that. She would not be that. She hissed and looked at Ari, her blue eyes flashing. 

"Fine!" Evelyn slammed her fist onto the table, hard enough that the record on the gramophone began to skip. This time, even Cullen sprang to his feet in surprise. "You want to act like my slave, Ariris?" Evelyn demanded, looking up at Ariris. "You want to clean up after me?! By all means, if you insist!" She picked up the glass of red wine that had been poured for Ariris, poured and untouched. She flung it's contents all over the table, over the white linens and napkins, the centerpiece and the untouched dishes. "Maker," Alistair muttered, wiping his suit of splattered drops of wine. Solona shot him a look that silenced him. Evelyn's wine glass smashed on the ground the, shattering into shards. Evelyn saw her reflection in the shards against the dark carpet, growing darker with wine. She felt herself recoil inwardly at the sight of herself. What was she doing? "Then clean it up!" she yelled, not knowing who she was raging at now.

Ariris stared at her with a look Evie had never seen in her before. She had always found it so strange that Solas and Ariris had claimed to be the same person when they were so drastically different... but now, it was not the gentle, devoted Ariris in those eyes, but Solas looking back at her. _Two halves of a whole_. Ariris held her gaze in a cold, challenging silence until she folded, as she always did in all things. Her voice was icy and quiet. "... _Yes, Evelyn_."

Evelyn's spine stiffened as she straightened up, words pushing against her lips, wanting release. Instead, she spun on her heels and stormed out of the dining room, Cullen following after passing a disapproving glance at Ariris. He stopped before he crossed the threshold and hurried over to Ariris. He frowned down at her, the words he wanted to say grinding against his reason. He chose them carefully. "...This Ball. This trip..." He lift a finger and held it out, but still. "This isn't about taking me, or Solona, or Alistair. What she said about friendship... she didn't even want to go to this event. This is about _you_ , Ariris. She wanted to bring you. To do this. For _you_." Cullen's frown deepened at the disinterested look on Ariris' face. "Maker..." He ran a hand down his face, "Can you at least make an attempt to not outwardly act so ungrateful?" 

Ari's eyes narrowed, and she tossed a napkin still dripping with wine at him, splattering his brown suit. "Since you are replacing me in all other things," she hissed. "You may want to get used to cleaning up her messes. Starting with the mess she made of herself." 

Cullen's attention turned at the sound of a slamming door. He shot Ariris another dark glance and chucked the napkin on the table before storming out to find Evie.

Solona hesitated, her eyes on Ariris, worried, questioning. Ariris did not meet her gaze, only reaching out to gather the scattered plates and soiled table cloth to pass to Maggie. Solona shook her head and moved to follow the couple. She stilled at the door when she realized that Alistair did not. 

"Hey..." He put his hand on top of Ariris' as she tugged angrily at the table cloth, gathering it all up. Ariris shook him off in her fuming silence. Ari stacked and moved dishes, then moved to the floor, picking up bits of the shattered glass. The record repeat the same two bars, over and over. "Ari, hey. It's okay. Let me help."

"No." Ariris snapped. She squeezed her hand tightly around the shards she had gathered and stood, carried them to the table. She threw them down onto a plate, scarlet and sticky with her blood. Some of the bits of glass still sticking in her palm. Alistair's eyes went wide, and he rushed over to her. "I'm not one of _them_ , Ari. I'm one of _you_. I'm a Dregs kid too, and cleaning up spilled booze is my specialty." He put both his hands on her shoulders, gave a little squeeze.

Ariris tried to shrug him off. He removed his hands, from her shoulders, but one of them trailed down to the small of her back and lingered. "I get it," he whispered, his hazel eyes kind. "This must be really... strange, for you. The servant being served." 

Ari's face softened, but she did not speak. 

"But that's not what you are anymore, okay? And you don't have to do everything on your own." Alistair dipped his finger into some of the spilled cheese soup and popped it in his mouth. "See?"

"You're right. How _silly_ of me. I almost forgot. I'm not a servant any longer." She looked up to him, a sarcastic, tight smile pulling at her lips. "I'm a _whore_." 

Solona's eyes narrowed. There was something too familiar in the way he touched her, spoke to her. She knew he knew Ariris, that they had an arrangement concerning the brothel-- but he never referred to her as a friend, nor she him. But the way he moved to comfort her, that was not the comfort you gave to a stranger. 

She left this quizzical scene and went to her room. The weekend began to go a very wrong way. It wasn't Evelyn's fault. She really did everything to indulge them and she felt herself guilty with all her complaining about that stupid corset she forced her into. Evelyn only wanted them to have some good time and they were utterly ungrateful. All of them.

She reached the door of her room, next to Evie's seeing Cullen as came out. Evelyn slammed the door behind him. He stood at the door, jaw tensing as he caught his breath, trying to calm down. Then he took off the other way, heading to the gardens. Solona heard the muffled sound of crying coming from Evelyn's chambers. She released her door handle and began to take the steps to Evie's door. Slow and timid steps, feeling her stomach jerks as the voices became louder. She wasn't sure what she was doing or Evelyn even needed her at all, still her legs drew her closer and closer.

She stopped before the door and for a few moments she just stood there and listened the sounds of crying coming out before uncertainly raised her hand to a knock.

"Sol-" she heard and twitched as slowly withdrew her hand and turned to Alistair coming to her with a faint smile on his face as took some steps backward. "What are you doing?" he asked gently.

"Nothing." Solona answered, her voice jaded. "Just having some stupid thoughts." Alistair chuckle as took her hand and drew her away from Evelyn's room to hers.

"When Ariris picked up the glass... she did that on purpose, didn't she? All that blood..." Alistair's voice was thoughtful, full with concern.

Solona's throat tightened. "Why do you care?"

"I don't-- I mean... I just. That was _weird_. Who acts like that?" Alistair cleared his throat like always when he was embarrassed.

She stopped halfway and rooted her legs. "Could you go back to your room now, Alistair?" he looked back at her, his face puzzled. "This day was exhausting and I want to rest a bit."

Alistair closed the gap between them and pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose and then he wanted her lips but she winced away. "Alone," she surprised how categorical this sounded. Alistair for a moment just stared her and then with a disappointed and puzzled nod released her hand and began to take the steps to his room just as Solona to hers. At halfway she turned back to Evie and listened the painful sounds coming out but Solona did not want to force her unwanted comfort on her. So she entered her own chambers.

 

\---//---

 

Cullen listened at the door for a few minutes, cautious. Evelyn's crying had stopped, and now nothing came from the room but silence. He turned the doorknob as slowly as he could, attempting to prevent any noise, crept across the room through the darkness.

He was shocked to find the bed empty, and without a blanket. Cullen glanced around the room, curious and concerned. He had almost left to begin a search of the house when he looked down to the foot of the bed.

Ariris lay in a tight ball, curled up like a cat. Evelyn had not left-- she lay behind her, one arm and one leg draped over Ari’s torso. Even asleep they looked as different as they could be, light and dark, strong and fragile. For a moment, he wasn't even sure Ariris was alive she was so still. Evie twitched and whimpered, taking deep breaths through part lips.

There was something there that he could see, but could not identify. It was beautiful and sweet, but left him with a taste of melancholy. Two lost little girls, clinging to each other for warmth in a world that offered none.

The scene made sense without explanation. Ariris must have snuck up to the room, lay at the foot of Evelyn’s bed. And rather than have her sleep on the floor alone, she had joined her on the ground. And Evie had taken all of the blankets.

Cullen wondered if this is what a soul mate was, wondered if Evie would ever love him as much. He bent silently, working the blankets loose from around Evelyn. He lift them, shook them out and covered both women.

 

 


	38. Caprice

It was called the Firefly Ball, held every year at the end of the social season, which Evelyn had not been taking part in this year as much as she usually did. The large carriage pulled up to the gates of the mansion of the Orlesian Ambassador. The mansion was closer to a palace than a proper mansion, with two storeys and wide wings embracing a manicured garden. Behind the mansion stretched the lake in all it’s glittering glory under the starlight. It was a dark night, perfect for fireflies that lit up the night amongst the reeds.

They were escorted to the vestibule, with Ariris holding her head up high, walking alone. Evelyn could see the tightness of Ariris’s eye, and knew that she was uncomfortable. But Ari had refused both Cullen and Alistair’s offer to escort her in. Hopefully, by the end of the night, things would be different.

Evelyn herself walked with her hand on Cullen’s arm, his figure striking as always in his uniform. Even Alistair, in a suit of blue and gray, pulled eyes to him just as Cullen did. There was something about both the men that captured attention. Perhaps it was because most nobles tended to soften and go rotund around the middle after a while. Cullen and Alistair were shaped by their jobs. Cullen’s broad shoulders were accentuated by his uniform’s sleeve caps, while Alistair’s sinewy frame held his clothes better than any tailor’s dummy, and far more flatteringly. And with their masks, everyone wanted to find out who they were before they were announced.

Even Solona was attracting attention with her hair like the autumn leaves, her green dress of flowing silk fanned out behind her as she walked, her mask wrought with flowers - roses, her flower of choice these days. There were roses from the Trevelyan manor woven into her braids as well. It had taken the hairdressers ages. But Evelyn spared no expense. More than anything, she wanted everyone to enjoy the evening, to just… be happy away from the madness.

She knew that her clothing did not match Cullen at all, but that mattered little, she was so short anyway. Perhaps a wide skirt was a bad idea. She felt like an upturned mushroom in her gown of champagne lace and ivory white silks, a string of pearls at her neck. Her mask was silver, bearing the Trevelyan horses on either side of her face. She adjusted it now. “Before we enter,” she said then, taking her arm off Cullen’s. She took Ariris’s gloved hand in hers. Her dress of black with ornate lace was still the colour of mourning, but Ariris looked beautiful in it, like a siren rising from a dark sea. “There is someone you must meet.”

Ariris’s eyes widened under her mask, which more the motif of a white deer. “Who am I meeting?” She asked in a whisper, the golden candlelight catching in her hair.

Evelyn threaded her way through the lingering nobles. There in the corner of the room, standing aside as if waiting, was a man in a strangely ethnic looking officer’s uniform, a sash around his waist embroidered with spiraling trees. His uniform was of a dark gray that shimmered strangely under the candlelight, and the embroidery on his shoulder was of a copperish gold, shaped like the feather of a strange bird. A curved sword hung sheathed at his waist, bearing it with the same ease as Cullen did his. What was most striking was his features. Smooth and gentle, but with feline eyes that glowed yellow from within. Tattoos of greenish gold covered his forehead in delicate tendrils. The sides of his head were shaved, allowing the branches of his tattoo to stretch over his scalp. The hair he did have was platinum blonde, braided and tied back at the top of the head to fall over his shoulder. He straightened up when Evelyn and Ariris approached.

“Lady Trevelyan,” he bowed formally. “It is an honour to meet you again.”

He raised his eyes to look at Ariris, yellow and bright like the sun to her silvery gray orbs. Abelas did not smile, but his eyes did linger on Ariris. Evelyn realized Ariris was holding her hand a little tighter. “Ariris, this is Lieutenant Abelas, of the Arbour Sentinel Guards. He works closely with my family in monitoring our shipments through the wilds. My dear Abelas, this is Madame Ariris Lavellan, a dear friend of mine. The one I said I would introduce to you.”

“I am honored beyond measure, Lady Trevelyan,” he said, his voice like velvet to the ears. “I am…” He bowed and took Ariris’s hand, touching his lips to her knuckle. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were soft. Perfect, Evelyn thought. “Madame Lavellan, may I have the honour of escorting you to the ball?”

“I’d.. be delighted,” Ariris said, casting Evelyn a glance.

“Perfect,” Evelyn beamed, putting Ariris’s hand into Abelas’s. “Come! We must be introduced to the ballroom.” She turned and led them back to the others. Two noblewomen had clustered around Cullen. Alistair and Solona watched, trying not to laugh as he stood with his arms crossed. Evelyn came to his rescue, slipping her arm in his. “Sorry for the delay,” she said coolly. She turned to the two ladies and spoke to them in Orlesian. They giggled and blushed, walking away with a polite curtsy.

“What did you just say?” Cullen asked.

"She said you were already spoken for,” Alistair grinned under his gryphon mask.

“You speak Orlesian?” Evelyn blinked.

“What else would you say?” Alistair asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing he wasn’t answering her question. Abelas and Ariris reached them then. “This is Lieutenant Abelas of the Arbor Sentinel Guard,” Evelyn introduced. “He will be accompanying Ariris for the evening.”

“A pleasure,” Alistair said as Solona curtseyed. She had been practicing, Evelyn noted. Thank the Maker.

“The Arbor Sentinel Guard?” Cullen asked, sounding interested.

“You must be Denerin City Guard,” Abelas said as they made their way to the doors, speaking with the familiarity of guards everywhere.

“Soon to be Commander,” Evelyn chirped, hugging his arm a little tighter.

“Evelyn,” Cullen sighed, and she could see his ears redden.

“Well it’s true. Anora spoke about it at the Salon,” she smiled.

“I cannot get my head around how you call the Minister ‘Anora’,” Cullen shook his head as the doors to the ballroom was opened for them by the doormen. Light and music spilled out over them as the brilliant chandeliers caught their eyes.  A sweeping red-carpeted staircase led down to the ballroom below, where nobles mingled, the music from the musicians at the far end of the ballroom resonating in the wonderful acoustics. The Herald caught sight of them.

“Presenting Baroness Evelyn Olivie Aurelia Daniella Elisabeth Trevelyan of Ostwick. Heir to Trevelyan Industries and patron of the arts,” he intoned as they entered.

“Arts?” Cullen muttered to Evelyn.

“Engineering is an art,” Evelyn smiled.

“Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Captain of the Denerim City Guard. Descendant of the Second Inquisitor, Champion against illegal Lyrium trade, Lion of Denerim.”

“Lion of what? When did--” Cullen hissed. Evelyn subtly kicked him in the foot. They stopped at the head of the sweeping stairs that led down to the ballroom. Cullen bowed as Evelyn curtsyed with grace. Then they began to descend the steps, Evelyn holding her skirts daintily. She could feel the buzz in the air as they descended. There were whispers behind fans, glances stolen, outright stares. She knew Cullen was often introduced alone while she would have been introduced with Alexius. The fact that they were now being introduced together did not escape the gossiping lips of the nobles.

“I think I can hear the hearts breaking for you, Honeybee,” she whispered.

“Evie,” he sighed wearily. “Please, if I trip now, I will kill myself.”

“Messer Alistair Andrew Theirin, Officer of the Drakon Yard. Queller of the Black Blood Case of 18:17. Mistress Solona Natalie Amell, Engineer and pioneer of personal powered flight, University of Denerim.”

Evelyn looked over her shoulder as she and Cullen reached the bottom of the stairs. Already the whispers were shifting. Solona and Alistair were new. Fresh meat. It didn’t matter if they were together, they were already being sized up as they descended the stairs after their bow and curtsey.

Then the hall hushed as Ariris and Abelas came to the top of the stairs. “Lieutenant Abelas Mythallen, of the Arbor Wilds, Lieutenant of the Arbor Sentinel Guard. Madame Ariris Lavellan, of Denerim.”

As expected, Ariris’s curtsey was flawless, dripping with grace. Evelyn sighed softly, watching her.

“Something wrong, pup?” Cullen asked softly.

“Ari moves with such grace, doesn’t she?” She sighed.

She saw him glance at Ariris, descending with Abelas. “I suppose so,” he murmured. “You and Ariris are very close, I noticed.”

“Of course,” she chuckled. “I told you we were. She’s like a sister to me.”

“Yes. She soothed you in your nightmares on the coach.”

Evelyn chuckled awkwardly. “I was having a nightmare. She… she used to do that as a child. I didn’t have a parent to teach me kisses and gentle touches. It was all Ari.”

He smiled faintly. “I will have to ask her to teach me a thing or two.”

She smiled warmly up at him. “You do enough already, Honeybee.”

He smiled but did not say more.

“We must take the next dance,” she said to Cullen.

“We don’t have to, I don’t dance very well,” he muttered. A servant came up with a tray of drinks. Evelyn and Cullen took a delicate flute each.

She glanced up at him. She wanted him to enjoy himself. She wasn’t here to please anyone but those she cared for. “Of course,” she smiled. “We can take a walk.”

Then, through the crowd, she saw the person she was hoping to see, and yet dreading to. She gripped Cullen’s arm. He looked down at her. “Cullen, my father is there,” she whispered. She felt him tense again. “It will be fine,” she assured him, touching his arm. He nodded.

They excused themselves from their friends and threaded their way through the ball. Evelyn knew people there, and stopped for polite conversation, introducing Cullen, who was unfailingly polite. He certainly knew how to handle nobles. Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at Ariris and Abelas, both speaking closely in a quiet bubble of their own, ethereal against the crowd of nobles. Alistair and Solona were slowly being surrounded by curious guests, wanting to speak with them. Evelyn hoped Solona already knew the rumours of Alistair’s birth. Otherwise, the night was going to be awkward here.

Cullen touched Evelyn’s arm, drawing her attention back. She looked up at him and nodded, leading the way through the crowd once more. They approached a man amongst a group of nobles. As tall as Cullen with hair that was dark and streaked with silver at the temples, Baron Trevelyan watched them approach, his eyes as blue as his daughter’s behind his Trevelyan mask of pure white ivory. It was very evident that Evelyn got her small stature from her mother. Baron Trevelyan sipped his wine and gestured with an immaculately white glove to a door. Evelyn tensed and nodded, following him.

Her heart was pounding. She had never spoken to her father of… Alexius before. Not that her father ever had any time. Now everything would have to come out, if she was to get his blessing for her courtship with Cullen. Not that it mattered, a part of her raged. She would be with Cullen regardless, even if she had to leave all the inheritance behind. She would never marry Alexius! A hand closed over hers as her fingers gripped Cullen’s sleeve. She drew a breath and calmed herself.

Her father opened the door and stepped into the antechamber, a lavish sitting room with a sideboard stocked with drinks. He immediately walked to the sideboard. She tensed in the centre of the room as Cullen let go of her arm to shut the door. “Father--” she began, taking off her mask. “I--”

“I hope you’ll introduce us properly, _bijou_ ,” said her father.

Evelyn steeled herself, swallowing the mild panic. She would not come undone. “Of course, father,” she smiled sweetly as Cullen stood beside her, taking his mask off. “Father, may I introduce Cullen? We have been courting since the spring. Cullen, this is my father, Baron Astor Emilien, er, several other names, Trevelyan. My father.”

Cullen bowed. “My Lord Trevelyan.”

“Do you drink, my good Captain?” Astor asked, holding up a crystal decanter.

“I do,” Cullen admitted.

“Me too,” Evelyn said automatically.

“You will not, _bijou_.” Astor turned and filled two glasses of brandy.

Evelyn bit her tongue. Cullen led her to a seat. She sat down primly in a red leather armchair. Cullen took a seat by her. Astor walked over with two cups, handing one to Cullen. Astor sat opposite them. “Your lawyers have been very busy, Evelyn,” Astor began before he took a sip of his brandy.

She twisted her fan in her grasp. “They have been,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. “Since they are your lawyers too, I take it you have read the paperwork.”

“The charges are seriously, _bijou_ ,” Astor said, a softness coming to his features as he reached up to take off his mask. His eyebrows were black and stern, but his gaze was soft, almost sad. “Why did you not tell me?”

“You believe me?” Evelyn breathed.

“Should I not?”

She stiffened, her vision blurring as her eyes watered. She reached for her handkerchief. “I didn’t think you would,” she breathed. “The marriage was so important to you.”

“Had you told me, I would have withdrawn the engagement,” Astor sighed. “The Viscount of Lydes is--”

“No,” she said firmly. “I do not want the Viscount of Lydes.”

“You want this guardsman instead,” Astor settled back in his chair, swirling the brandy. “A guardsman who earns in a year what my factory makes in a day.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Evelyn said.

“Evelyn, he can barely support you,” sighed Astor. She glanced at Cullen, and could see the colour coming to his cheeks. “Not even in that hovel of yours. I know about your house. It’s a nice hobby, _bijou_ but it’s time you came home.”

“Absolutely not!” Evelyn snapped. “I will not go home! And I want nothing from him, I can support myself!”

“Evelyn, don’t be foolish--”

“I will not have you speak that way about him when he’s right here!”

“Why is he not saying anything then?”

“Out of respect,” Cullen cut in. He took a sip of his brandy at last. “It is unwise to tell the father of your beau that he is wrong two minutes after meeting him.”

Astor actually laughed. “How do you support her then?” He asked. “I expect nothing less than her maintaining her current standard of living.”

“Her life in the Borroughs I can sustain,” Cullen admitted. “It is free of frivolous spending. And Evelyn delights in running her businesses.”

“Which will be yours upon marriage.”

“Not if she doesn’t want them to be,” Cullen said. Evelyn stared at him. Marriage? He spoke nothing of marriage before this. Cullen caught her glance. “If it even comes to that.”

Astor looked at Cullen over the rim of his cup, his blue eyes thoughtful. “Evelyn, busy yourself elsewhere, girl,” he said then, not looking at her.

Evelyn hissed at the dismissal. He hadn’t seen her in two seasons, but she was already being dismissed like an inconvenient serving girl. “I’d rather stay,” she said stiffly.

“I’d rather you not,” Astor snapped. “This is a conversation for men. Be a good little girl and leave us to talk.”

She rose, feeling the heat in her cheeks, her hand closed in a fist around her fan. She grit her teeth and turned, pulling her mask on. “ _Bijou_ ,” Astor called. She stilled, her hand on the door knob. Her father spoke Orlesian then, something he never did to her before. “ _What is he to you? Honestly._ ”

She put on her mask, tucking the ribbons behind her ears. She looked at Astor over her shoulder. “Everything, Father,” she said. “Honestly.” And she stepped out.

 

++++

 

Evelyn stepped out into the ballroom, calming herself as she leaned against the door. She… trusted Cullen, of course she did. Whatever happened, she would not waver in her decision. Cullen was her one right choice. Her only right choice. She would not unmake it. A hand touched her bare arm. Evelyn’s fan smacked it away as she turned to look into the face of a white fox, smiling at her, silvery blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “My word,” Alexius purred. “Father dear not taking to your new… accessory?”

Evelyn snorted. “Touch me again and I will break your fingers, Alexius,” she growled.

“Such barbarism,” Alexius purred. “To be expected, of course, from one who courts beneath her.”

Evelyn felt herself steeling from within. She drew herself up and opened her fan languidly, smiling at Alexius over the lace of her fan. “You’d best take that dowry money and be ready to return it, my dear Alexius. Our engagement is over.”

“You’d best not speak so soon. There are too many investments that have gotten returns, I doubt your father will let that slide. I’m sure Astor will see reason.”

“That’s for the lawyers to handle, my dear,” she smiled. “And I agree. I’m sure Father will see reason, and realize that the only way for me to walk down the aisle to you is if you dragged my corpse.”

“This is unnecessary, Evelyn,” Alexius sighed. He held his hand out to her. She stared at it.

“Surely we can be civil,” Alexius said. “There are people watching.”

Evelyn glanced at the crowd. It was true. There were people watching. She smiled then, and took his hand. “May I have this dance?” He asked.

“Go to hell,” she smiled, but he led her inexorably away from the dance floor. She had to follow. She couldn’t let the other nobles know her pain, her disgust at touching Alexius.

He put his hand chastely on her waist as they stepped onto the dance floor. Evelyn followed suit, putting her hand on his shoulder. Once the music began to play, they started to move in the dance. “I cannot help but feel I’ve made a mess of things, Evelyn,” said Alexius as the music masked their words.

“Putting it mildly,” she said, her voice tight. “You did horrible things to me - I never wanted any of it!”

“You should have told me,” he said mournfully.

“I did!” She grated, feeling rage bubbling in her from being blamed for this. She had taken too long to shake off that feeling.

“I never wanted to take advantage of you,” he sighed. “I thought you were just being coy. Please, Evelyn, let me start over, I’ll treat you better this time.”

“You want nothing more from me than my inheritance!” She snapped.

“I beg to differ. I can survive without your wealth. Who has more to gain from marriage to you, me or Cullen? That upstart is using you, Evelyn. He’s the one taking advantage of you.”

“I love him!”

“Oh how quaint,” Alexius chuckled. “So you’ll marry him?”

She stared at Alexius. “Why do you care? Don’t you have little to gain from my hand?”

“It’s business, Evelyn.” His smile was almost reptilian. “Business and pleasure. I’ve gotten used to you. I find myself rather… fond of you. I would prefer if you stayed with me. I care for you. I just… showed it wrongly. Please stop being silly.”

She stared at him and pulled her hands off him, the dance swirling around them. She was suddenly uncertain. Did he care? No, he didn’t. If he did, he would never had forced himself on her. She turned, feeling disgusted at his touch, his closeness. He was calling her name, she did not turn around, her footsteps taking her through the crowd of nobles. She hated him! Hated how he twisted her thoughts, made her confused, question her own reasoning, belittled her! She bit her lip. Cullen never did that. She was never a silly girl to him. She needed air. The ball had a horrible start! She hoped the other girls were faring better. For now, she needed fresh air. She needed to get away from the ballroom where Alexius was. She needed… respite. She needed air.

She stepped out of the ballroom, heading to the stairway that led down to the lake. She realized she was half-running, but her gloved hands caught the stone of the balcony’s ledge and she drew a deep breath. Maker help her… She did not want to see Alexius. She bit back the tears and looked out over the lake. It stretched out before her, dark and gently sparkling under the starlight. A breeze tugged at her hair. Somewhere, a lark started to sing over the music spilling out from within the ballroom. She thought she was stronger than this, but every time Alexius spoke to her, she unravelled.

She heard a footstep over her shoulder and turned, her eyes glittering like frost on the mountains. She gasped then, seeing the tall sanguine figure, robes of black flowing from his body, his head bare and glinting in the golden light that spilled out behind him, but his eyes matched the frost of Evelyn’s, blue and hard.

“What are you doing here?” She breathed, forcing herself to stay in control.

“I am a guest,” Solas said, stepping up to her, his every step clicking on the marble like a magistrate’s gavel.

“Of whom?” Evelyn asked, pulling herself together, her hand gripping her fan.

“Of a lost noble who needed spiritual guidance,” he murmured, joining her at the railing. “You have fled the ball, this is unlike you.”

“You care about what I do,” she said, her voice like winter. “This is unlike you.”

“I was not expecting Ariris to be with you.”

Evelyn sneered slightly. “Of course, straight to the point as ever, Solas,” she said, turning from him, walking down the stairs away from him. She heard him following. Good. “What are you here to ask of me? Digging for information about Ariris? Wondering who the man she was with is?”

“Yes,” his voice was ragged.

Evelyn stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking over her shoulder, the dregs of golden light dancing on the pearls of her dress.

“She is with a possibility, Solas,” Evelyn said. “A possibility. A choice. Something we never gave her.” She turned away. “It’s time we did. It’s time we both put down our toys and our pride and grow up, is it not?”

She walked on, her shoes crunching the gravel of the path, long strides drawing him away from the ballroom, away from Ariris. “You did this,” he snapped, following her. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking anymore, Evelyn realized. Perhaps he was distraught. Perhaps he wanted… to know. Perhaps he was sincere. She stopped by a fountain, water trickling from a statue of Andraste, weeping as she beheld the sky.

“I did,” she said coldly.

“How could you?” He growled. “She is my wife!”

“You are no husband of hers, Solas! I can't believe you have the nerve to even _say_ that. Did you forget how she begged and pleaded with you not to go? How I had to tear her off of you? She spent over a year insisting you would be coming to get her at any moment!” She snapped. “You do not own her.”

“Yet you act as if you do--”

“I have no doubt I did,” Evelyn said, looking at him. “I have no doubt I behaved badly. I am trying to… redeem myself, to make things right. What of you, Solas?”

He said nothing, staring at her as she stood there. She could see his fists clenching and unclenching. She turned away, looking at the fountain. “Do you know about Caprice coins, Solas?” She asked then.

She reached into her purse, pulling out a coin. “We nobles are foolish and frivolous. We find the ability to throw away money a mark of status. We call them ‘caprice’.” She snorted. “Throwing something of value away on a whim.”

She picked up a coin, twirling it in her fingers. She tossed it to him. To her slight surprise, he caught it, hand lashing out like a snake.

“We don’t do that, do we, Solas?” She asked softly. “Even when we know we should. We hold on like our lives depend on it, because of pride.”

“Don’t compare me to yourself,” Solas drawled. “I am no spoiled little brat provided for every whim and fancy. Now you interfere where you are not wanted, as always. Making decisions where you are not invited - as always.”

“You are bitter that Abelas is kind and gentle and considerate, that he is successful and well-regarded, that he made her blush? That he treats her better than either of us combined because I know he will treat her like a person?” Evelyn said.

She shook her head. “Oh Solas… We are both fools. We both had her, we both loved her. We both let her go.” Her eyes caught his, blue on blue. “I thought I was letting her go to someone… if not good, than at least someone who would be able to care for her. I never liked you. But I trusted you to always care for Ariris.” She sighed softly. “You set such a standard for me. You snuck in to see her, loved her and held her, shared her scones. I thought that was right. I envied your love so much. I wanted it, dreamt about it, hoped I could find someone like you who’d love me just as much. Then you… did what you did to me, to… ‘protect’ Ari.” She gripped her fan tighter. “I thought that was right, and I… was wrong. I was so young, I thought that was how love was supposed to be, if you did it that way. Maker. Since then, I never said no hard enough, never fought hard enough when men told me to do things. I thought that was right, and I was wrong.”

She picked out another coin, twirling it over her knuckles, metal flashing in the light of the lyrium lamps that illuminated the path. “Then Cullen came, and taught me better. To have a Solas in my life, who’d love me, keep me, _that_ was wrong. To obey all the time, that was wrong. What I thought love looked like before was wrong, and I was definitely wrong about one thing.” She tossed the coin vehemently into the fountain, where it chipped off a piece of marble. “It was not my fault. You were wrong. Alexius was wrong. Not me. I did nothing wrong.”

She could feel Solas’s eyes on her. She glanced at him. “Real love kicks your ass, makes you uncomfortable, makes you grow… real love liberates. But the damage was already done. Silly, stupid Evelyn to have doubted her own heart all along.” She stared at him then, his figure so much taller than her, imposing all in black, his head glinting, but his eyes shaded. She wanted to hurt him. So much. She wanted to do what she yearned to when he left Ariris crying on the floor - to make him bleed until her rage was sated. But now that she looked at him, she realized that there was no point. As inseparable as salt from the sea, so was Solas from his pain. That was all he was, all that defined him. It was made worse because that’s what he believed of himself, believed he deserved, and nothing could change his mind. Ari had people around her. Solas faced the death of his son, the loss of his wife, his practice, every element of his world,  _alone_. He was cruel and heartless, because he was alone and… vulnerable, seeing the world through the warped lens of his own… fears. So to face them, to conquer them, he made them real?

She let out a ragged breath, hating the swelling pity in her heart, hating that she felt this for someone who hurt her so much. “I wish,” she whispered. “I wish you could see love the way I do, Solas. I wish you turned out… the way you were meant to.”

“I do not need your pity,” his voice was sharp, but there was an uncertainty there as well. “I do not need anything from you.”

“No, what you need is pity from yourself!” She said. “But you won’t give it.”

“You of all people are in no position to tell me what I need,” Solas growled, but there was no fire in his words. It was like he was speaking on automatic.

“And Ari isn’t ours anymore. She never was, and we hurt her by acting like she was. If we loved her, we have to stop hurting her. Solas, just… heal and move on - don’t do this to yourself, and to her. Haven’t you both hurt enough?”

He rounded on her then, hissing as he closed the distance. Evelyn stood unafraid, undaunted, she didn’t even flinch when his finger waved in her face. He stared at her, the digit quivering, his face a horrific rictus of conflicting emotions. His cheek twitched into a snarl. “You… know nothing.”

She stared him down, his fury futile over the calm of her certainty. “I’m not the one who knows nothing,” she whispered.

To her utter shock, as if the sun rose from the west, tears came to Solas’s eyes though his face remained a mask of contained rage. “You must be if it took you so long to realize Ariris is a person and not some toy,” he sneered then. And there he was, mask back in place despite the tears. “I, however, knew that fact all along, from the very first day I met her. And you, if you knew anything about Ariris, if you even thought of her as a real person, you would see the necessity in everything that I did for her. She is all heart and nothing else. She is physically fragile and emotionally weak. Not that I expect you to understand anything of what I have done. The only thing she ever had, the only thing that was ever truly hers-- The one thing that brought her joy, made her feel like she had value-- the thing she treasured more than anything, I lost, I destroyed!” There was venom in his words, but none directed at her. “Do you know what that feels like? His fingers falling from mine, to know that I failed him - failed Ariris? And everything I’ve ever done then, has made it worse! A life of solitude, pain, death - I chose that for her benefit. All for her. All. For. Her. _Do you know what that feels like?_ ”

“Empty rooms.” Her words came unbidden. “Empty cages, silent of bird song. Empty beds. Your own poisonous thoughts echoing back at you, bouncing off the walls.” She never stopped meeting his gaze. “But, of course, I know nothing.” Evie scoffed. "You call the woman you claim to have so loved 'weak?' You give her no credit. She survived _you_."

“You know absolutely _nothing_!” He shouted. “And to see her with other men, a _whore_ \- What do you think I feel? She was to be a courtesan - her albinism would have served her well, she could be independent! She could be independent for once! I never wanted anything than to be with her. And that has never changed. But I do what needs to be done because I am not selfish - _that_ is what love is, you simpering mewling quim.”

She would not cower! “And now she _is_ a whore. And you are well and truly alone. Is that your _love_? Alone. You always were. You never gave her a chance to be party to any decision - you decided it all. She never had any choices given to her to make. That’s not right! For one night, with Abelas, let her decide!”

“If you think that of her, then you know her less than I thought! She will make no choices, she will do as he says, as you say, as I say. We are two halves of the same person. We always have been and we always will be. There is no other. Only us. I am her body and she is my soul. And I am a cancer."

“Prodigy boy healer, hah. You cut out the tumors. Being half alive is better than actively dying, Solas!”

“ _Is that not exactly what I’ve done?!_ ”

“Then let her be with Abelas.” Her voice cut through his rage. She had had enough. There was no talking to him. Solas was alone, his own thoughts echoing in his mind, poison washing over him again and again, always tasting it like an old familiar wine. She gathered her skirts and started to walk away from him back to the ballroom. “Stay away from her, Solas.” He did not reply, but he didn’t need to. He simply stood there with his poisonous thoughts, his pain, his solitude, the caprice coin clasped in his fist.

 


	39. Thorns

Solona couldn’t express how uncomfortable she felt in that gown, in the tight corset around her torso, leaving so little room for breathing, her breasts pushed up and exposed to the wanton glances and she got them enough to want to hide away. That was her first ball and even if she wasn’t as charming and beautiful as Evelyn or Ariris but the curiosity of novelty brought too much attention to them and soon a significant group gathered around them, giving her less and less air to breathe.  
  
“A female engineer, how interesting…” an Orlesian woman chirped wearing a mask of a harlequin, affecting with an awfully grating accent as she spoke the common language. "And do those whatsits really fly in the sky?" Solona tried to swallow the comment that wanted to break free from her.  
  
"They use the advantage of aero-" she realized how useless to waste her words on an imbecile Orlesian goose, whose greatest concern that her shoes didn't match to her necklace. "Yes, it can fly."   
   
"Fascinating," she cooed running her eyes through Alistair with a look she undressed him with her imagination. Solona was astonished her by own kindness to give that much to that woman to has anything in her head beside pitch dark ignorance.  
  
“A rose and a gryphon. What a poetic choice…” a Fereldan noble came to them other time taking an indecent look on her décolletage, longer than it was proper. “Miss Amell, do you know the legend of King Alistair and the Gryphon statue of Redcliffe?”   
   
“Unfortunately, history was never my field of expertise,” Solona replied blandly forcing a suave smile on her face, perfectly knowing what he was implying. Stupid nobles and their stupid games. But she promised to Evie that she at least trying to enjoy the party.  
  
_Please Sol, just for one night try to be charming and amiable. You’ll see they will love you._ Evelyn begged her in the carriage. And for her, she played by their superficial and pharisaical rules. She knew only the dress on her cost more than her scholarship. Evelyn’s gesture to invite them and paying for everything was more than generous and she didn't want to ruin the night for her. It was hers... and Cullen's.  
  
“According to the legend after the Hero of Ferelden had left the Bastard King’s service and vanished he placed a piece of freshly blossomed red rose on the pedestal of her statue in Redcliffe. Every year on the same day,” the noble yarned. “They say the Hero’s beauty was legendary. The King called her the Rose of Ferelden because of her flaming red hair.” he leaned to Solona’s ear like wanted to tell a jealously guarded secret, his eyes on her breasts, and she heard as his breath slightly quickened. “She was the Mistress of the King.”  
  
"Fascinating story, Lord Teagan,” Alistair's voice was hard, spiced with the cadence of possession and jealousy as pulled Solona gently closer to himself making it clear to whom she belonged. “If you excuse us, we had barely the opportunity to admire the fireflies.”  
  
“Of course,” Lord Teagan beamed. “There are many beauties here that are worth for admire.” and he raised his glass of champagne and took a last long glance on Solona’s breasts, before Alistair with a barely audible hiss led her away, out of the ballroom, through a giant hall filled with people, drawing their unwanted attention on them, their eyes followed them everywhere.  
   
"They are talking to my breasts." Solona disgruntled, trying to hide her obvious embarrassment behind her hand fan. She always hid her bosoms away from the curious eyes under decent clothes, always felt her awkward because of their size. "Why is it so hard to look into my eyes?"  
  
Alistair took a quick glance on her curves what the corset just emphasized more. The lines of her generous breasts was more desirable than usual. Her hair combed over her hair and adorned with red roses. the scent of it mixing her own of lavender was more intoxicating than any alcohol they could serve that night. Blood-red lips called him for a kiss and her eyes like two flawless emerald without the concealment of her glasses. She looked like a goddess. And if Andraste looked like her, he would spend more time in the church with praying. He chuckled silently of his own blasphemous and utterly corny thought.  
   
"I have no idea," he replied casually as they reached a sufficiently isolated room. "But I'm annoyed too. Your breasts are delicate creatures who need special care," he leaned over them, a puckish smirk on his face, trying to hide that the glint jealousy painted the hazel of his eyes golden. "Don't be afraid my precious things, I won't let those nasty nobles talk nonsenses to you."  
  
"Alistair," Solona hissed, her cheeks red by her embarrassment as he discreetly ushered her in, closing the door behind them.  
  
It was a library. Solona went to the bookshelves, tried to read the spine of the books, however without her glasses it was harder than she thought, even if they were close enough to see clearly. They were untouched. Solona could never understand this extravagance of the nobility, keeping things without purpose, just to decorate.  
   
Suddenly two firm hands grabbed her and spun, gently pressing to the shelves. Two hands landed next to her head entrapping her, his lips claiming her possessively, stealing every breath from her lungs.

  
"A-Alistair..." Solona gasped as they parted but before she could tell anything else he drew her to another kiss, biting her lips more violently than usual, almost painfully. One of his hands wandered from the bookshelf to her shoulder gently tugging down the chiffon strap of her gown. Solona broke away. “What are you doing?” she heaved.  
  
Alistair grabbed her chin and drew her lips back to himself. “Isn’t it obvious?” He breathed into her mouth as crashed his lips to hers once again. Solona shifted uncomfortably slipping away under his arm.  
  
“Here?” her cadence indignant as she adjusted her dress. “What has gotten into you? We are at a party. Evie would…”  
  
Alistair’s other hand was still on the bookshelf. He weighed on it and pressed into a tight fist. “Fuck Evie…” he hissed. “She made a pageant of you for these superficial and hypocrite nobles. How dare they? How dare they look at you like you were a pile of flesh on the market?” and with his other hand hammered into the bookshelf making the books fall to the ground.  
  
Solona strode to Alistair and smoothed down her hand on his arm and as her hand reached his still fisted one, loosened it and entangled his fingers with hers. “It’s not Evie’s fault, Alistair. She wanted us to have some good time together. And we do nothing but complain about this all weekend. Please, just play our part in this thing and try to enjoy the night. If not for Evie, for me,” she kissed his knuckles. “And don’t be so whiny! You are not the one who is forced into this horrid thing.”  
  
Alistair chuckled as turned to her and exhaled a kiss on her temple. “You are right as always, my love,” he whispered to her skin and with his free hand embraced her. “I try to enjoy the party and not complain anymore, I promise.”  
  
The door opened and they scattered. Evelyn entered, holding her mask idly in her hand, her expression was affable but somehow forced. Something wasn’t right. Solona knew her enough to see through her invisible mask, not just the one that was in her hand.  
  
As she stepped in and looked at the smeared blood-red lipstick on their face, her pleasant mien quickly changed. She knitted her eyebrows and her vivid blue eyes blazed.  
  
“What are you doing here?” She exclaimed. “What the hell did you do with her, Alistair? Look at her face!”  
  
“Oh, so it is my fault,” Alistair riposted as crossed his arms before his chest defensively.  
  
“Evidently,” Evie's voice cracked like a whip. “Solona has the decency to behave properly on a social occasion,” before Alistair could say anything Solona took her hand on his arms to silence him, reminding him what he had just promised to her.  
  
Alistair groaned inwardly and held up his hands placatingly. "Alright, I’m sorry Evie. I couldn't help myself,” he forced out the apology through his gritted teeth.

Evelyn went to Solona and grabbed her wrist.“Go back to the ballroom and try to act like a gentleman, if you are able Alistair,” she scolded as she handed him a handkerchief to him to clean himself.  
  
She dragged Solona out of the library through the hall, until they reached a richly adorned oak door. Evelyn took her steps were quick, Solona barely could keep her pace almost falling in her high-heeled shoes. Another thing that made her uncomfortable.  
  
It was a small room, richly lighted with candles, A huge golden vanity table at the middle of the champagne-colored room. Evelyn led Solona there and with a certain push made her sit on the red velveteen ottoman before went to the vanity fussing with something there. She returned to her with a linen napkin and cleared her lipstick stained chin and cheeks. Then with a brush, she put some powder on her and finally she repainted her lips with the blood-red lipstick.  
  
She was silent all way long and her moves were tensed, slightly trembling. After she finished without a word she took back the things on the vanity table.  
  
“What’s the matter, Evie?” Solona asked dryly. Evelyn with a slow move put down the brush and the makeup and the napkin and looked at her through the reflection of the mirror.  
  
“Solas is here,” she hissed, her fingers tightened around the lipstick that was still in her hand.  
  
“What? Why?” Solona exclaimed. Evelyn shook her head.  
  
“I don’t know but if he touches Ari even with a finger I swear-” her voice trailed off in her angry trembling. Solona jumped up and rushed to Evelyn, placing her hand on her shoulder with sisterly care. She felt her wincing by her uncommon touch, but soon calmed down by her newly came intimacy.  
  
“He won’t Evie. Lieutenant Abelas will take care of Ari. Please, don’t let him spoil this beautiful night.” Evelyn looked at her, her eyes glistened with tears. Solona took a handkerchief and delicately dried them up before they could shed. “And for Andraste’s sake Evie, don’t ruin your make-up.” Evie laughed but it trembled by her urge of cry. “Let’s go back to the ballroom. I’m sure Cullen And Alistair wait for us there.” Evelyn’s lips turned to a faint smile as Solona led her gently to the exit.  
  
Evelyn stopped, digging in her heels. She looked up at Solona, her eyes vulnerable despite her smile. "Sol," she said softly. "If you're not having a good time... it's alright." She drew a breath and the words started tumbling from her lips. "You don't have to stay all the way or anything like that. You're not obligated to me to stay if you don't want to or if you're not enjoying yourself. You're not obligated to pretend to enjoy yourself--" She bit her lip and stopped. Then she chuckled, putting her mask back on, silver hiding the reddening rims of her eyes. "You're not a noble. You can leave anytime you want. I just wanted you to know that."  
  
Solona smiled under her own mask. "Don't say that, you goose," she chuckled. "I am enjoying myself. I would never have looked this pretty without you."  
  
"But you were always pretty," Evelyn pointed out matter-of-factly.  
  
"Yes, but I wouldn't have known," Solona said. "I am enjoying myself. Come on. Let's find the men before they get into trouble."

  
  
+++++++  
  
   
  
Cullen emerged from the room, his cheeks red, eyes downcast. That conversation with Astor could have gone better, and future conversations would probably get worse with what he was about to do. There was no other choice. He put on his mask again, settling it on his cheeks. Foolish. He was never the sort to rebel like this. But… he wanted to be with her. Maker, he had to talk to her, it had to be her decision - and it was a big decision to make. Cullen had no wealth to his name. At most, he would inherit his father’s farm on the outskirts of Honnleath as the eldest son. That was it. Those were his prospects. His family never had much money, so he was sent to military school, and grew up to be a guard. Mia married a reasonably well-off merchant and was enjoying her middle-class life. Branson made a decent living making and selling clocks while Rosalie tended her husband’s inn in Honnleath. That was it. That was his family. Workers and farmers.  
  
Was he seriously considering asking Evelyn to leave all her wealth behind for him? Was he seriously hoping she would say yes?  
  
He was.  
  
Andraste preserve him, he was hoping she would say yes. It was foolishly idealistic…  
  
Someone touched his arm with a perfumed fan. Cullen was brought back to the here and now. “Captain,” cooed a noblewoman. Cullen smiled and excused himself. He had neither the time nor the obligation to deal with noblewomen now. His eyes scanned the crowd for Alistair. He needed to talk to the man before he went to Evelyn.  
  
He envied Alistair. It was easy for him. There were no such difficulties in his path and he was free to court Solona. Cullen wasn’t even excited by Evelyn’s wealth. Yes, it would enable them to partake of fascinating pastimes. Cullen never used to sword-fight for fun . But that changed nothing. He was still going to work. Guarding was all he knew how to do. And he was good at it. A lifetime of leisure, sitting around doing nothing but composing poems about daffodils all day did not appeal to him in the slightest. Alistair. He could help. Cullen went in search of the man,  
  
   
  
+++++++++  
  
   
  
Once outside of the powder room, as Evelyn and Solona threaded their way through the crowd, Evelyn stopped. "Back in a bit," she hissed, seeming to see someone in the crowd. She left Solona's side and disappeared. With her small stature, she was soon out of sight. Alistair was indeed waiting in the ballroom. When Solona's eyes met his, he practically ran to her, almost pushing away the nobles around him. As he reached her bowed and took her gloved hand and pressing a light kiss on it like a proper gentleman.  
  
“Maker’s breath, but you are beautiful,” he whispered. “Would you honor me-“  
  
"A-Alistair," Cullen’s uncertain voice interrupted him. Solona felt him twitching and his lips pursed as he turned to him. "Could you help me with _that_ thing?"  
  
"With the _proposal_?" Solona asked and Cullen shot a killing glare on Alistair who spread his arms and shook his head innocently. "I have my methods, Captain Rutherford," she took an insinuating glance on Cullen through her thick eyelashes, hiding her smile behind her hand fan.  
  
"I do not doubt it," Cullen cleared his throat. "So, can I borrow Alistair, Solona?" she giggled and with a careless hand wave gave her permission. Like they have ever needed it.  
  
Alistair caught her hand, closed between his and kissed her palm. "Don't you mind, my love?" he asked.  
  
"Of course not," she beamed as looked to a dark corner of the ballroom, hiding a dark person, whose blue eyes glimmered cruelly as watched a dancing pair. "I'll mingle a bit. So, go and prepare everything," and she dismissed them with a light move. "Oh, and Cullen..." she cried after them. Cullen looked back, her smile wide and suave. "Treat her like a queen, or else you will regret the day you were born," she tweeted in honey-glazed voice. He nodded anxiously as turned on his heels and rushed away with Alistair.  
  
"Maker, that three women are more dangerous than the whole Carta combined," Solona heard the fading comment of Cullen as she approached the shady figure, more clearly with every step.  
  
Solona examined the hardened but so familiar feature as she stepped next to him. He did not notice her just stared the couple at the dancefloor as they gracefully glided through the ballroom. His eyes were filled some primal bestiality and Solona was sure if they weren't at a social event he would do something irreversible, something ill-advised. But she knew Solas enough to know he was considerate enough to not make a scandal. Or at least she hoped.  
  
"It is uncommon to see a priest on a summer festivity," she said, drawing Solas's attention on herself. "What the servant of the Maker would do in a place like this?" she asked the poetic question.  
  
"Serving His will," he answered plainly. Solona smiled as fixed her eyes on him.  
  
"Such altruism," she chirped. "Shepherding back all these lost souls to His flock. Interesting choice of mask. A _wolf_. A wolf who cares the sheep. I never thought you are that poetic."  
  
He turned with his whole body to her, straightening himself and clapping his hands behind his back, his face serious and motionless but hinting his annoyance. "No hidden blades this time? Just witty words?"  
  
"We are at a ball, Solas, so act civilized. Let's just chitchat about nonsenses as it is proper on these social occasions," she widened her eyes and forced a silly smile on herself like she was a foolish little chit on her debutant ball. "Have you heard the rumors about the priest in the Dregs who has the dire hobby to cut people open? Awful, don't you think?" she tweeted in candied voice.  
  
Solas chuckled unamused. "Charming as always, Solona. And I'm surprised you could tell this without gagging."  
  
"Things are changing," she riposted a bit hardening her still sweet voice.  
  
"Apparently," he ran his eyes through her. "You look gorgeous. The belle of the ball," and he walked her around like a predator ready to strike on his prey. They played his game too long that a gesture like this daunt her. "Such a disappointment. Trading all your intelligence to pursue ephemeral fame, tawdry court fashion and frivolous romances. I expected more from you."  
  
"Not everybody has the privilege of moral superiority," Solona with an elegant move opened her hand fan. Solas stopped before her once again, knocking his shoes to the marble floor. He took a step forward her looking deeply into her eyes.  
  
"I have never noticed how unique your eyes are. Those thick lenses always hid them. Myopia gives you a mystifying leer." Solona stood his piercing glance, not the slightest move backward. "So this is the price of being noticed for you," he snorted. "Love _literally_ makes you blind. I am surprised you could even find me. Do you see anything or everything is just a vague and colorful chaos? For example," and he pointed at the other side of the ballroom. Solona could only see blurry figures and dim colors. "Is not that your chivalrous suitor there grabbing the ass of the servant?"  
  
"Such decency," Solona tried to hide behind her sarcasm forcing calamity on her trembling voice. Solas couldn't hurt her. She knew his weapons too well. They danced this too long now, she knew the steps too well. "But what should I expect from a man who stepped through every professional and ethical boundary. I wonder, do you mean your words when you preach to those ignorant fools about moral?"  
  
"Does this conversation have an aim, Solona? Or we are just running pointless circles?" she snickered, seeing the increasing impatience in his eyes as the blue of his eyes became greyer.  
   
"Of course, it has. We never chitchat. That's our specialty. We are always serious," she tweeted as drew her glance on the dancing Ariris. "I don't know what the hell are you doing here but Ari enjoys the company of Lieutenant Abelas. And Maker, she deserves some happiness. If in the hollow you call your heart has a bit of benignity or love toward your _former_ wife, keep the distance," the smile froze off her face and her glance hardened. "Be a good and humble priest and leave her alone tonight."  
  
Solas took a step toward her menacingly. "Are you threatening me?" 

  
Solona chuckled. She did not fear him. She knew his worst and he could not show her any new. "Of course not. I'm just giving an advice as an old friend," she stood his glare, never falter.  
  
Solas took another step, towering over her like the predator over the prey."We are not friends anymore."  
  
"I remember. Rest is assured it burned into my mind."  
  
Two protecting hands landed on her shoulder. "Can I help you, Father Solas?" Alistair asked, his voice filled with intimidation. Solas took two steps back to make the distance what protocol demanded.  
  
"We just chatted about altruism and morals, Alistair, my dear. The Maker gifted plenty of these to His humble servant," she smiled once again. Something changed in Solas's eyes, a glimmer of pure cruelty as he raised his glance on Alistair.  
  
"Officer Theirin, what a pleasure to see you sober," Solas greeted Alistair. "I wonder... did you find my whore wife worth the exorbitant fee she charges?" and he drew his meaningful eyes back on Solona. "Did you extend her the same courtesy as me, interrogate her over the loss of her baby as you fucked her from behind like an animal?"  
  
Solona knew the look that flashed across Solas' face, the way his eyes turned a light eerie grey. His controlled rage was genuine, building as he spoke. "My Ariris. Always so sensitive to the feelings of others. Did she pretend to like it? You panting all over her with the reek of whiskey and stale cigarettes while you humped her like some feral dog?"  
  
She felt Alistair's fingers deepening into the hollow of her collarbone. Solas was now smiling, wicked.  
  
"You were so enthusiastic over talking about women with me earlier Officer Theirin, why look so distressed now? So tell me. Does she still tremble just before she comes? Does she still cry out for me in her native tongue? ' _Ma'vhenan_.' Oh, forgive me. I doubt you would know."  
  
"...You are fucking delusional, Father." his voice was hard and angry as glided his hand to the small of her back.  
  
Solas's wicked smile widened. "Well, that is the rumor about me. But you need not take my word for it. Why don't you ask Ariris about his performance, Solona? Who knows she could even give you an advice. It must be hard and exhausting to satisfy his well-known appetite." Solona felt as Alistair's fingers were closing into a trembling fist behind her back before he loosened it again.  
   
"Please excuse us," Alistair hissed through his gritted teeth as gently led Solona away. She took a glance back on him before Solas's face became blurred. She knew that glimmer in his eyes too well to make her shudder.  
  
He led her to a secluded balcony with the view of the lake. Solona went to the railing, her steps tensed. She watched the fireflies over the lake, their dim green light. _Solas never lied._ He always twisted words at his pleasure but he never lied. At least not for her. He hurt her, manipulated her but his words were never false. She knew those words were addressed to her, not to Alistair. 

Alistair stepped behind her, kissing her bare shoulder gently, his hands traveling down her arms.  
  
"Alistair," her voice was uncertain. She wasn't sure to want to hear the truth. _I hope you fall in love one day, so you know what it feels like when something takes it away._  Solas wished her once on a fateful day. "What Solas was implying about you and Ari... it is not true, is it?" his move froze, his fingers deepened into her skin almost painfully as rested his chin on her collarbone.  
   
"How can you even think this?" he hissed. "He just wanted to fuck around with us."  
  
"Does any part of what he said cover the truth?" she asked.  
  
"I was at the brothel and I paid for her services. But she only gave me information. I never touched her," something felt wrong in his voice, she couldn't tell what, but something. She had the feeling when she miscalculated something but she couldn't figure out what and reran the equation in herself again and again but the results were always wrong. It was still razor sharp how fondly he touched Ariris at the dinner to comfort. It seemed more than a simple friendly gesture, way too familiar the way he touched her.   
   
"Then why did you pay for her?"  
  
"We wanted to do it discreetly,"

Solona turned to him and cupped his cheek."You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" Alistair leaned into her touch and kissed her palm before he answered.  
  
"Of course not," he whispered as drew her into his arms, gently wrapping his protecting arms around her. "I could never hurt you," he added. She snuggled to him and tried to hush away these thoughts. _Solas just wanted to hurt her, plant doubt in her._  
  
"So-Solona, could we speak?" She heard a vague voice. She slowly peeled herself out from Alistair's embrace, hearing his disappointed hiss. Her mouth turned to a friendly smile as looked Cullen, who stared her like a stray puppy asking for help. She had to admit she liked Evelyn's choice of man despite her early concerns.   
   
"Of course, Cullen," she replied encouragingly as took some steps toward him. He was red by the embarrassment and looked away, shifting uncomfortably, rubbing the nape of his neck.  
  
"You said I should treat her like a queen... how should I-- what should-- oh, Maker's breath." Cullen heaved and Alistair walked beside him and patted his shoulder comradely, encouraging him to continue.  
  
"It's okay, she won't hurt you... hopefully," Solona shot a scolding glare on Alistair as took another step toward Cullen and looked into his desperate amber eyes. They were so warm, filled with gentleness. And for maybe the first time that night, she smiled genuinely.  
  
"Well you know, there are customs of proposal among the nobility," she began. "Firstly you should ask her hand from her father."  
  
"We spoke with her father." Cullen muttered, rubbing his neck harder. He sighed and lowered his hand, his jaw tensing. "He isn't keen. He expressed his disapproval of our relationship and my future plan to marry her. He says I couldn't ensure the lifestyle Evie deserves by her title."  
  
Solona hummed. "That is problematic."  
  
"Maybe he is right. I am never going to be able to afford all this," he waved his hand at the ball. "Not even on a Commander's pay. And she is a baroness after all. I'm just a son of a farmer," Cullen frowned and looked around with sudden distaste. He sighed once more.  
  
"Do you really think these things matter anything for Evelyn?" Solona raised her voice enough to draw Cullen's eyes back to her. "She loves you. And if you love her too, pull yourself together and propose her in a way she can't say no. It has to be fait accompli. It is the only way to have her father's blessing... or at least his acceptance."  
  
"In a way she can't say no? You mean to manipulate her to marry me?" Cullen snapped. "I want her to say yes from her heart, not because I forced her into a situation to." Solona rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently.  
  
"You won't manipulate her," Solona scoffed on Cullen's incomprehension. "Maker, how can you be so... dense?"  
  
"Pardon?" Cullen blinked.  
  
"Look what do you think you should do not?" Alistair asked. "Say this were - I don't know - Carta? And Evie is... red lyrium?" Alistair frowned, getting lost in his own analogy.  
  
Cullen gaped at him. "What are you on about?"  
  
"If he weren't a noble, I mean," Alistair said. "I was trying to think of a way you could get it."  
  
"That was what you went with?"  
  
"Just-- answer the question!"  
  
Cullen frowned. "If he weren't a noble, I would have asked her to run away with me by now--" He stopped, staring at Solona who smile at him warmly. "Er."  
  
"That's an option," Solona said. "Not a good one! But it's an option. Look, Cullen, Evelyn is the only and exclusive heir of the Trevelyan fortune, therefore her father can't close her out from inheritance. Once she says yes, he has to accept it."  
  
"That's not going to fly," Cullen said. "He won't believe it."  
  
"Then you need witnesses," she beamed at him.  
  
Cullen looked at her slowly. She could see the gears in his head turning as he turned her idea over in his mind. Then sweat beaded on his forehead. Solona was surprised. Cullen got to the conclusion she was leading him to much quicker than she anticipated. "Andraste..." his voice trailed off. Solona handed her linen handkerchief for him to dry the sweat from his forehead. Cullen's eyes pleaded her for help, and Maker knows why she wanted to help him.  
  
"Well, when we were little we all had our favorite tale." Solona began, her tone helpful, sounding almost like a teacher. "Evie asked me to yarn her always the same. A tale about a prince who reached his age of marriage. His father, the King, held a masquerade to where he invited every maiden in the country and told his son he had to choose a wife by the end of the night. The prince danced with every girl, but nobody won his affection. Until he saw a beautiful girl dressed like a butterfly. He asked her for a dance. She was graceful and charming and by the end of the waltz, the prince had fallen in love. And when the band stopped playing he knelt down on the dance floor and asked the girl to be his wife and queen in front of the whole Court. And they lived happily ever after."  
  
For a few moments Cullen just stared at her breathlessly, his mouth fell open. The fresh air of the late summer night felt thick suddenly and Solona saw as he battled for air and his face slowly turned to chalk-white, the side of his eyes twitching. Alistair watched him worriedly and slapped him on the shoulder. "Maker..." Cullen heaved, roused from the fields of panic. "Now I know what you feel in that corset."  
  
Solona chuckled. "At least somebody feels my pain."  
  
"This is-- I only wanted a discreet proposal among the fireflies! I-I don't know if-- what if she-- uh..." he croaked before his words burned up in the panic, his knees sagging for an invisible moment. Solona stepped to him, and took her hand on his shoulder gingerly, feeling Alistair's glance on her skin.  
  
"And in other situation it would have been an utterly lovely gesture, Cullen." she tried to comfort him. "But..."  
  
"You don't have to do it, tonight, Cull." Alistair cut her off. Cullen looked at Solona, pleading for some guidance or confirmation. She smiled at him and nodded.  
  
"No, if it has to be spectacular, it has to be tonight." And Cullen strengthened up like a real gentleman what he was in fact.


	40. The Lion and the Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art by mosomacilany
> 
>  

Cullen was breathing hard as he stood outside the ballroom, his hands leaning upon the parapet of the stairway that led to the lake. The cool air off the waters calmed him. He found it a bit easier to breathe, though his thoughts were flitting back and forth, unable to focus. He wasn’t breathing heavily, nor staring ahead with eyes bulging. He was still, at least outwardly. He stared into the distance, his eyes half-lidded. He had to propose - in front of everybody. He was going to die! He was going to freeze up, make a fool of her, make a fool of himself. She wasn’t even going to say yes. He was--

Something tugged his sleeve. He blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He looked down into the eyes of Evelyn through her mask. “Hi,” she said in a small voice, as if worried he might bolt. She rubbed his back. “Are you alright? You look traumatized.”

He smiled, not trusting himself to speak, his hand touching her arm reassuringly. “Would you like to go for a walk?” she asked.

He nodded and moved to one side of the staircase. “Not that way,” she said, worry in her eyes.

He steeled himself and squeezed her hand. “Evie,” he said softly. “I’m not in the mood for a walk.” He saw her eyes widen behind her mask, her shoulders seemed to sag. It’s odd that she was so adept at the game. When one knew her ticks, there were so many ways her emotions betrayed her.

This was about her. If he had to put on a show, he might as well begin. He was glad for the mask that hid his blush as he bent down, one hand behind his back, the other holding hers delicately. He kissed her gloved hand as she turned to stare at him. “My lady,” he said, glad his voice wasn’t shaking despite how his heart was hammering in his chest. He looked up at her. “May I have this dance?”

Evelyn blinked in surprise, then smiled faintly. “You don’t have to,” she said quietly. “I know you don’t feel comfortable dancing--”

He chuckled, appreciative of her consideration of him. “For you, I’ll try,” he said, straightening up and offering her his arm. She reached up to take it, the column of her neck rosy from the encroaching blush. Andraste preserve him, please let him not mess up.

They made their way through the crowd and onto the dancefloor. Cullen knew they were being watched, but he just… tried to focus. He could do this. This was like going on parade. His throat was dry, though. He wished he had taken the time to drink something. The musicians were preparing for the next song and the dancers were getting into place. He took Evelyn’s hand in his, the other set on her back. Her hand rested on his shoulder. Not for the first time, he was struck by how tiny she was. They must look like an odd couple on the dance floor.

He knew how to dance, he just never took to the ostentatious display. But now, Maker, the look in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her blue eyes glittered, rosy lips slightly parted as they began to move in the flow of the dance. The music swirled around him, but it did not seem to register in his mind or his ears. He just watched her, his mind shying away from the looming scene he was going to cause. It could go so badly… Please let it not.

He felt her footsteps slowing as they stilled, the music swelling to an end. Cullen stepped away from her and bowed as she curtseyed. She smiled up at him as they rose. He could hear the other nobles vacating the dance floor for the next dance. She watched him a bit quizzically. “Cullen?” she murmured, touching his arm. “Are you alright?”

Cullen’s thoughts screamed Andraste’s name as he knelt down on one knee before her. Then he heard the gasps that rippled from Evelyn’s lips, spreading through the crowd, the nobles turning to him. He swallowed, his throat parched now. “Evie,” he murmured, and hated the way his voice carried in the swelling quiet.

She was staring down at him, and remembered to close her mouth then. “C-cullen,” she tittered, uncertainty and hope pulling at the edges of her voice.

Cullen took her hand. Get it over with and leave it to the Maker. He drew a deep breath. “The prince had to dance with every maiden in the land before he found his bride,” he said, his voice quivering. His hand was shaking as he held hers. “I… I don’t have to. I already found my bride.”

Her hand began to shake now. She lifted her other to her chest, hand clenched as her blush spread from her neck to her shoulders, a growing veil of rose. “Evelyn,” he plunged on. “I am no prince, but if I am to choose anyone in this life, I want it to be you.” He placed the tiny thing into her hand then, where the faded metal glinted against her glove. “This was all I had when they-- Back then. I want you to have it. I have a new most precious thing in the world now. Will you marry me?”

Evelyn sucked in her breath and pulled off her mask with abandon. He blinked as his own mask was lifted from his face, only to have her lips claim his. He heard the sound of clapping rushing against his ears, but all he could feel was his lips as his heart wound down from a terrified thrum. She lifted her lips off his, foreheads touching. The world was spinning. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I think I might faint,” Cullen muttered, holding on to her hand.

She smiled. “From joy?”

“I mean actually faint,” he whimpered.

She laughed and held his hands, supporting him as he got to his feet, the world thankfully ceasing to spin. She looked up at him. “Father disapproved, didn’t he?” she asked softly. “So you did it this way.”

He stared at her, her hair slightly askew from when she pulled off her mask. “How did you--”

She leaned up and kissed him once more.

Cullen saw her eyes drawn to the crowd over his shoulder. Astor was watching them, his mask hiding his face, but he was applauding. Cullen narrowed his eyes. He smiled at Evelyn and held her hand, leading her off the dance floor. She glanced at the crowd and appeared to see her father as well. “Evie,” Cullen said as she put her mask on. He moved to do the same. “I must tell you something.” She didn’t know about being disinherited. She should. He was still giddy from the moment. He leaned in to whisper to her, keeping their words private. “Evie, you might be… you might be written out of his will.”

Evelyn smiled coldly. “That’s his game,” she said, eyeing her father, who only smiled back at them. She suddenly waved to her father. “Papa!” she called, sounding like the little girl she always seemed. Before Cullen could say a word, she dragged him over to Astor, who turned to watch them approach, his smile almost cold.

“Papa, are you happy for us?” Evelyn asked brightly, hugging Cullen’s arm. Cullen kept his eyes averted from Astor. He wasn’t sure how he would react to Evelyn’s father. This was all unnecessary, and not in the least enjoyable for Cullen. It was all part of the Game and Cullen detested that what he thought should be private he was forced to put on display.

“I am surprised,” Astor said, sipping his champagne. “Should I congratulate him on digging a trench between the Trevelyans and the Du Grace? I’m going to hear from lawyers in the morning. As will you, Evie.”

Cullen shot Astor a look full of daggers, but before he could open his mouth, Evelyn squeezed his arm. Cullen bit back his words. “Honeybee, could you excuse us a moment? I’d like to talk to my father, to clear a few things up.”

Cullen’s jaw tensed. Astor watched him with… was it curiosity in those eyes? Bastard. He was beginning to hate his father-in-law. This engagement was off to a good start. He nodded regardless and bowed slightly to Astor, oozing politeness. “My lord.” He stepped away as Evelyn drew closer to her father, speaking to him tersely, her smile never leaving her face.

Cullen stepped aside and the moment he was alone and away from Evelyn, the nobles swarmed. Questions of his lineage, of his family, of how long he had dated Evelyn to propose to her - from fawning young and oddly eager young men alike. He fended off the questions as best he could, giving no details, but always polite, until a face approached him through the crowd. The fawning nobles parted.

Alexius approached, a silver fox in a flock of geese who stepped aside to let him pass. “My dear Cullen,” he smarmed.

"I’m not your dear,” Cullen said, crossing his arms.

"Hah, no, certainly not. It seems you have whisked mine away, however,” Alexius sighed. “I am devastated. Do all Rutherfords act with such dishonour? Like thieves and brigands who steal away women from their rightful place in the night?”

“You’d know all about dishonour, wouldn’t you?” Cullen said, a scowl settling on his features as he glared at Alexius through his mask.

“I know when it is inflicted upon me,” Alexius replied, gray eyes flashing under his mask. “And what was that little trinket you proposed to her with? I hear it was a coin. Was it your last penny, Cullen?”

The nobles around him tittered, but the laughter still from the dull cold anger that flowed off Cullen. He sighed then. “I don’t have time for this ridiculous fencing, Alexius,” he said. “Evelyn made her decision. I don’t have to stand here listening to barking curs pretending to be foxes.”

Alexius laughed. “That was witty for you, Cullen, how droll!” he grinned, but something in Alexius set Cullen on guard. If this were a bar, Cullen would be bracing for a fight. He knew the signs of when a man passed a point of no return. “Alas, I hope Evelyn can be talked into making a proper decision. I don’t think she’d look good in rags, after all. She’s impressionable. Your little gesture might have blinded her from important facts to consider.”

Cullen shrugged.

“And now you stand here playing noble? You, from a family of pig farmers?” Alexius shot.

“Actually, we farmed fruits. Fruits and cheeses. Honnleath Spiced Brie,” Cullen replied. He was growing weary of Alexius.

“So you will support her with your cheese, fruits and guardsman’s pay?” Alexius smirked. “Or are hoping she will support you, like the leech that you are? The way you take advantage of her disgusts me. I will win her back.”

“If you wish. I wouldn’t ask her, however,” he drawled. “Who knows what might happen.”

“Was that a threat?” Alexius asked sharply.

It was Cullen’s turn to laugh despite himself. “Not at all,” he smiled. “How’s your lip, by the way? The stitching should be out by now.”

Perhaps it was good that Alexius wore a mask. Cullen could see the burning anger in Alexius’s eyes. “Perhaps it is fitting you gave her a penny as a proposal,” said Alexius. “It is clear how much you value her. Poor foolish Evie. I promise you, Cullen, Evelyn will come to see my love for her.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Cullen growled, feeling the heat in his cheeks at Alexius’s talk of the coin, at Alexius calling his feeling for Evelyn ‘love’. It turned his stomach. He wanted to shove that fox mask right up Alexius’s-- No, that was not the way to behave. “If you are quite finished with your schoolyard threats, I have other things to attend to.”

Alexius laughed, but there was something dark in that cheerful sound. “Enjoy yourself while you can,” Alexius said and turned to vanish into the crowd. Cullen huffed a hot angry breath, heating the inside of his mask. He glanced about, realizing that the nobles were watching him as if he had put on a show. Cullen hated everything about the ball! “Excuse me,” he said tersely and walked away.

Cullen’s mood was dark. Alexius was going to be difficult - and he had to taint even this. He stopped, turning when a hand touched his arm. Evelyn looked up at him. “I see you spoke to Alexius,” she said, her eyes concerned.  

Cullen forced a smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “He was just grousing. As usual.”

Evelyn smiled up at him and took his hand. “I don’t want him to ruin this for us, so fuck him.”

“Evelyn! You’re in polite company!”

She grinned instead. “Dance with me, Ari is playing us something.” She led him to the dance floor. Cullen’s heart sank. “You’re groaning,” she pointed out over her shoulder.

Cullen blinked. “I wasn’t!”

“You were groaning internally.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps, but for you, I’ll try.”

Her smile radiated from her like a rising sun. At the dance floor, he saw her glancing around him at the piano among the musicians. A figure was walking up to the dais, Ariris in her halla mask moved as graceful as the deer itself. She sat down and Evelyn took his hand as they moved into position to dance. She was shaking slightly. Cullen frowned, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “What’s wrong?” he asked her quietly.

“Solas is here,” Evelyn replied, her voice tight and quiet, even as her smile remained. “And I don’t want her to see him. I thought we could-- I’m sorry for making you do this again, I just--”

He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. She looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable. This was absolutely not the way he wanted this. But she was trying so hard, for everyone, even in the moment when no one would blame her for basking in the glow of her moment. “I wanted to dance with you again,” he said. “Perhaps this time I’ll do better, now that I’m not so nervous about asking you to marry me.”

She laughed gratefully. “You were wonderful the first time,” she assured him. “And I’m not just saying that because I love you.” He chuckled despite himself. Ariris began to play then, a slow waltz, the deep bass chords of the piano humming in melancholy as the tune rose over the dance floor. Others came to step into the dance. Cullen glanced at Evelyn, the dark music was not what he was expecting. This whole party was not what he was expecting.

But there was a beauty in the melancholy of the song, and Cullen moved along with the other dancers. She looked up at him, peering at him through her mask, but he could see every flutter of her heart in her eyes. It was hard for him, he knew. It was probably harder for her. Maker knew what Astor has said to her. Cullen knew this dance. It was an old waltz and he had learned how to dance it at the academy. Officers were expected to act like gentlemen, even if they weren’t. As they flowed through the dance, her skirt swirled about her as he lifted her by the waist and flaring as he slowly lowered her. The strangeness in her eyes softened as her feet touched the floor and move on, their turning bringing them closer together.

Cullen felt the music filling him, enveloping him in a bubble of melancholy that was almost palpable, but hauntingly sweet and soothing to the soul. They had come together through strange circumstances, and their love was one of shared pain. Her hands moved up onto his shoulder as they turned, her skirt flaring behind her, their bodies drawing closer. They were merely two broken people, hoping against hope that their shards fit the other’s, holding each other up against the abyss that shattered their lives and uncertain futures. His hands took her waist once more as he raised her up, her face shrouded in shadow above him against the light of the chandelier for a breathless moment, her body wreathed in a halo of light.

She slid against him as he lowered her, her breath drawn through parted lips. His hand rested on her back, the curves of her body fitting his as they always did. Her hand slipped back onto his as their masks touched, Cullen yearning for her lips against his. But not here, not on the dance floor in front of everyone… His fingers enveloped hers, and he felt it then, the coin tucked into the palm of her glove. She held the very essence of him, in the palm of her hand. It was a beautifully terrifying vulnerability. She tiptoed then, the hand on his shoulder drawing his head down.

Their lips met and Cullen froze for a moment, aware of the gawking eyes. But the thought of others watching faded like frost in the fire of her lips. He held her close, the other dancers moving around them, muttered complaints falling on deaf ears. Cullen shut his eyes as he held her closer, her body still blazing in a halo of light in his mind. She was his. Was this what Andraste felt when she beheld the Maker?

Cullen opened his eyes slowly as their lips parted. They were an island in the swirling sea of the dance. He beheld her blue eyes through her mask and he smiled slowly, holding her hand with the coin tightly in his. The music began to fade around him as Ariris reached the last notes of her song, then it happened, a discordant note to shatter the spell.

Cullen looked up and saw Ariris staring ahead, frozen, her eyes in the crowd. Her last broken note hung in the air like a pall over the whispers of displeasure that rose at the song’s unceremonious end. Then Abelas was walking up onto the stage and kindly drawing her away from the piano, his hands protectively on her shoulders. Cullen turned, scanning the crowd as Evelyn tiptoed helplessly. Then he spotted the bald man among the nobles. “She’s seen him, I think,” he said tersely.

“We have to stop him,” Evelyn hissed. “Take me to him.”

“Why?” Cullen frowned, but took her hand anyway, moving to the edge of the dance floor towards where he had seen Solas. “He can be civil can’t he--”

A sharp clanking cut over the whispers that had risen up, pulling attention to the source. Alexius’ voice boomed through the hall.

“Leaving so soon?!”

Evelyn’s heels dug in and Cullen was immobile as he froze.

“I think it's time to to make a toast to the happy, new couple!” Alexius grinned down from the landing, his glass raised high above his head. The crowd roared an agreement of toast, a toast! banging their own glasses.

“Of course,” Cullen sneered and turned to lead Evelyn away, but she gripped his hand and stood rooted. She looked up at him with a smile that was as warm and bright as the winter sun. Then, with her arm hooked on Cullen’s she turned to Alexius. Cullen set his jaw.

“As you all know,” Alexius began, “Lady Treveleyan and I have been engaged for many years. Thus, I find it only appropriate that I be the first to wish the new couple a long, healthy. and happy life together.”

The crowd cooed and aww’wed stupidly. Some well-meaning stranger placed a crystal champagne flute in Cullen’s hand. Evelyn was handed one too.

“Why, it seems like it was only yesterday when Evelyn was just a chubby, awkward excuse for a girl who loved nothing more than to roll in the dirt. How appropriate she will marry a pig farmer!”

The room swelled with an uneasy series of chuckles. Alexius was smiling, his tone a cheerful contrast to the words he spoke. People were clearly unsure how to react. Cullen realized he was snarling behind the mask, his growing anger a dull sullen fire searing the inside of his skull, but Evelyn’s smile was still as warm as ever as she held the champagne.

“Evelyn is an extraordinary woman. Never content with what life lays out for her. A woman like none other, an adventurous heart and a bold soul.” He looked to Evie on the dance floor, the white of his teeth gleaming. “Most women would find happiness in what the Maker blessed her with. Beauty, grace, intelligence. But not Evelyn. Always seeking more, never settling. And such good nature, such a good soul. So loving, and kind, gentle. Always taking pity on those less fortunate.”

His eyes shift to Cullen now, the glass still raised high. Alexius winked. Cullen would have given anything to commit murder right then.

“Many of you are probably wondering what I am thinking in all of this. I will tell you! Some of you may expect me to be angry, or jealous, or embarrassed. I am none of these things. For I am a man of substantial means. My family is one of the oldest and wealthiest. I have turned many, many potential lovers away over the years. The Maker has granted me with great deal of blessings-- and thus, a woman like Evelyn, a woman who’s complexes only allow her to have eyes for bent and broken weak things, finds little personal fulfillment in a relationship with a stable man like me. Do not think poorly of Evelyn for her poor choices, for they are symptomatic of her conditions.”

Alexius turned to address the crowd. “A toast! To the new couple. May they always strive to reach their dreams!” He looked directly to Solona. “May they have many healthy children,” he looked around for Solas, but did not find him. “And may Evelyn finally find some comfort in knowing she makes personal sacrifice for those beneath her.” All of the glasses raised and clanged together to a rally of cheers!

Alexius grinned meanly, knowing he had won his audience, saw an opening to make a cut. “It is a good thing Cullen is a pig farmer-- from what I know of him, he has much experience fucking swine.”

The crowd roared with laughter.

“Don’t worry my friend,” Alexius tilt his glass to the Captain. “You’ll feel right at home. She squeals just like a little a sow in heat. SuuuuuuuueeeeeEEEEEAaaaaa!”

The crystal shattered in Cullen’s hand, pain ripping up his arm from the shards that dug into his skin like rising lightning as the red mists filled his mind. But a hand held him back from the step towards Alexius he didn’t even know he’d taken. Evelyn’s grip was strong. The crowd had gasped at the breaking glass. “Oh dear,” Alexius said, concern in those fucking gray eyes of his. “Get the man another cup. Perhaps a wooden one? Crystal might be a tad delicate for him.” More laughter.

Cullen grit his teeth and tried to stay cool, blood soaking his glove in a red floret. “Don’t need to get so worked up over a toast, Alexius,” Evelyn laughed brightly. “People might think you were… compensating for some inadequacy you might have - insecure, perhaps, where Cullen is so well endowed. With decency and grace. Think about it, my lord.” She turned Cullen around and pulled him away through the crowd. The voices sounded distant in his mind, but he heard Alistair’s voice rising over the crowd with that effortless snarky tone of his, saying, “I suppose there are some things money can’t buy. But there are pills for that, Alexius.” And there was more mindless laughter.

Evelyn steered him away from the crowd and into the anteroom that he had used to speak to Astor. She slammed the door shut behind him. Cullen stormed to the fireplace, ripping his mask off and gripping the mantle, letting the heat of the flames sate his anger. He realized he was squeezing his injured fist. He stared at his torn glove, soaking with blood.

He snarled as Alexius’s words washed over him again. A sow in heat, squealed like a pig - that bastard, low-life-- He turned away from the fire, but Evelyn’s hand caught his chest as she darted in front of him a decanter of brandy in one hand. “Don’t,” she said sternly.

Cullen stared at her. "Don't what?" he asked. "Sit down?"

She frowned, eyeing him as she lowered her hand. "Right," she said slowly. "Sitting down is fine. Ripping Alexius's tiny dick off and shoving it down his throat - not fine."

"I didn't even think of that," Cullen said, holding his hand. "Now that you mention it, it's not a bad idea."

Evelyn sighed and let him sit down. Cullen sank into a chair before the fire.  She knelt down beside the chair, tucking her skirts under her knees carefully, and took his hand. 

“That man is utterly vile,” Cullen growled and winced when she pulled off his glove. "He had already groused at me once, I thought that was it."

Evelyn gave him a withering look. "He's a noble, Cullen," she said softly. "I'm sorry, we are not nice people."

He said nothing, his wound on his hand was bloodier than he thought. She looked at the cut on the side of his palm. 

“Besides, it was expected that he would do something public. There are steps to the Game, and while the music plays, we dance,” she went on, her voice dead. She tucked her handkerchief under the back of his hand and opened the decanter. “I am raging inside, believe me. But that can wait. You’re bleeding - and that cannot wait.” She picked up the decanter and opened the lid with her lips, spitting out the stopper onto the carpet. 

"I'm not sure if that brandy's strong enough to-- ARGH!" He pull his hand away from hers sharply as the poured brandy seared his wounds. “Maker! That was worse than I thought!” he swore, his hand on fire and his pants wet with brandy and blood.

“Don’t wave your blood about, you silly goose!” Evelyn scolded and caught his wrist. She set it on the handkerchief that rested on his thigh. "It's West Hills 18:32. A good year."

"Couldn't I drink it instead?" he asked. He saw her lift the decanter and he braced himself this time, biting his lip as the brandy burned, catching in the handkerchief under his hand.

"Later,” she murmured distractedly, setting the decanter down on the carpet. She turned his hand over carefully. "I don't see any shards."

"The brandy melted them, perhaps."

Evelyn rolled her eyes and cleaned his wounds once more with brandy, his body stiffening from the sting. It wasn't so bad the more one was exposed to it. Then she reached up into his pocket and drew out his handkerchief. She knew where he kept everything on him.

With the pain from his hand a trilling counter to the dull rage, he watched her bind his hand with his handkerchief. When her fingers tied the knot on the makeshift dressing, she leaned down to kiss the knot lightly. Then she looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “Let’s get you to a physician,” she said softly. 

"It's fine," he said, looking at his hand. 

"Stubborn," she smiled at him. "Remember when we first met?"

He chuckled, holding his wrist. "Ariris cut her hand too. We can't handle glassware, apparently."

"Blood to blood," Evelyn sighed, tucking her hands on his knee and resting her head upon his thigh. "I am glad you cut me."

"You make it sound like I did it on purpose," he said, resting the back of his injured hand on her hair.

"I did it on purpose," she admitted. "Running into you, that is. The glass was a lucky break, as it were. I had to get to know you. We were just about to track down the red, you see. We had to know if the Guards would be a possible ally. So we needed a read on you."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. This was news to him. "And what was your read?" he asked, curious despite himself. 

"That you were a good man," she murmured. "That you would do the right thing, which might be inconvenient."

"You mean I might actively try to arrest you, should push come to shove?"

"Something like that."

Cullen didn't know how to react to that. But that was so long ago, it didn't matter anymore anyway. "I've done something a bit more permanent than arrest you," he said, stroking her hair. She turned her large eyes to him, eyes into the cosmos, her body in a halo. Perhaps he was tired. He didn't normally have thoughts like this. He leaned down to kiss her. "I'm marrying you, instead," he said, their lips touching. 

She giggled. "We'll see," she teased. 

"Excuse me?" Cullen stared at her. She laughed even brighter and stood up, climbing into his lap. "Evie! Someone might come in!"

"You just had your tongue in my mouth," she said, curling up against him, her arms wrapping around his neck. 

"Maker preserve me," Cullen sighed.

"He will. And besides, I say 'we'll see' because who knows? I might get a better offer. Maybe the King of Antiva will fall at my feet and declare his love for me!"

"Oh really," Cullen raised an eyebrow. "And the chances of that happening are..."

"Slim," she smiled, nuzzling his nose. He was beginning to forget his earlier fears of being interrupted. "He's my nineteenth cousin."

Cullen pulled back and gaped at her. "You are nineteenth in line for the throne of Antiva?" he exclaimed. 

Evelyn laughed brightly. "I'm joking!"

Cullen groaned from the bottom of his heart as he leaned back in the arm chair, burying his eyes in his good hand. "Maker, don't do that, I cannot deal with any more shocks today," he begged, rubbing his forehead with his finger and thumb. She pushed his hand away from his face then and he felt her kiss his nose. "Evie..." Cullen droned as the kisses turned to playful nibbles. 

The door opened then and Cullen startled up in his seat, his forehead colliding with Evelyn's. Cullen winced and rubbed his head as she whined. Cullen looked up and felt his cheeks catch on fire with the heat of the blush. Astor stood at the door, his eyes like frost. 

"Playing, Evelyn?" Astor drawled, shutting the door behind him. 

Evelyn suddenly hugged Cullen tighter, her eyes defiant. Cullen felt the blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck. He took Evelyn's shoulders and moved her off his lap. She sullenly stood up and crossed her arms. 

Cullen stood as well. "My lord," he said politely. 

"It's is good to see that someone here remembers what's appropriate," Astor purred. 

"We were just leaving, Father," Evelyn said. 

"By all means," Astor smiled. "I merely came in here for a cigarette."

"Smoking in front of a lady, how terribly impolite," Evelyn tossed her hair. 

"Yes," Astor smiled. "You are a lady now. And it is best you left. There has been enough excitement at the ball, hm?"

Evelyn shot him a dark glance as she took Cullen's hand. Then she let go immediately when he winced in pain as she grabbed the wrong hand. Astor went to the side board, looking for a drink. Cullen followed Evelyn past him, the atmosphere in the room tense and guarded between them. "And, Cullen," Astor called at last, the neck of a decanter clinking against a crystal glass as Astor poured himself a drink. "Since my daughter insists that you are somehow an appropriate choice, it behooves me to confirm this. Upon your return to Denerim, come by a club called the Blue Raven. You shall find me there."

Cullen looked at Astor with puzzlement and a little wariness. "I shall, my lord," he said politely, however. 

Astor chuckled, laughing as if he were privy to a joke no one else saw. "Good. Till then, Cullen."

 


	41. The Halla and the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Art by mosomacilany)
> 
>  

(Content deleted)


	42. The Rose and the Gryphon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art by mosomacilany
> 
>   
> 

 

The proposal went more or less smoothly, better than Solona expected. The rumors after it spread among the nobility faster than the wildfire in the sun-dried forest. It was the scandal of the year. A commoner proposed the wealthiest maiden in Denerim, a maiden who was known as betrothed to a well-respected noble. Solona listened the hushed whispers around them with a conspirator smirk on her face. She played their game better than she thought even so found some strange amusement in it. Listening to those stupid debutants chirped about the Captain on the dancefloor, bright and handsome as the rising sun as lowered on half-knee and asked Evelyn to be his wife, acting astonishment like she had no part in this at all.

She watched the events from the side of the dancefloor as the chalk-white Cullen lowered to half-knee, Evelyn's firstly baffled then radiating expression, she listened the melancholic waltz that Ariris played for them, enveloping the ballroom and watched the dancing pair.

"The Divine will canonize you a saint one day, Sol. Saint Solona, the patron of the awkward and baffled suitors," and took her hand and kissed her palm, pressing it to his cheeks. "Do you think that Evie will ever thank you for this?"

"You miss the point, Alistair" Solona answered feeling a passing shadow behind her. Dark and angry like the coming storm. An involuntary shudder rushed through her body, leaving goosebumps behind. "You said once there are a few things in the world that are worth to protect. This is one of them," and she beckoned to the dancefloor. "I didn't help Cullen for his or Evie's gratitude."

Alistair chuckled amusedly. "You are clearly an angel, Sol. "He pulled her to him, closer than it was proper. They were in a hidden corner that concealed things that people wanted to hide from curious eyes. Evelyn and Cullen demanded every attention anyway. They were under the benevolent veiling of being unheeded. Alistair brushed his lips through her cheek, his hand gently gripping the base of her neck. "And I'm a very lucky man," he whispered into her ears, his hand trailed down the line of her spine and rested on the small of her back. An image flitted through her mind, the same motion of his hand across somebody else's body in a too similar way.

"No," she winced away uncomfortably. "You will ruin my make-up… again. Evie is going to kill you. Don't think she wouldn't.” It sounded so silly. A silly excuse for a silly accusation. Why were Solas’s words still echoing in her mind?

He chuckled. “There are many things on you now that I want to ruin,” he took a step back and took her gloved hand. “But you are right, let’s stick to the etiquette,” and he bowed solemnly as he took a glance at the dancing Evie and Cullen. “Would you honor me with a dance, my Lady?” he purred in a velvety voice.

Solona frowned. “You can dance?”

“You would be surprised how thorough education I got as a royal bastard,” he stepped next to her again, pressing a kiss on her temple. “Dance with me, Sol,” he breathed to her ears. Solona's breathing quickened. She knew how to dance but she has always been clumsy even when she wore her comfortable flat shoes. Now she was in those high-heeled horrid things that bruised her toes, making every step an agony.

"I can't..."

The piano play ended so suddenly in such an unceremonious way that it drew Solona's attention on Ariris, following her shocked gaze until noticed Solas. Solona looked back at Ari again, Seeing Abelas gently leading her away, and then back to Solas but he was nowhere, just the icy feeling he left behind.

She hesitated what to do, but before she could even determine herself Alexius's cruelly mincing voice made her falter. His toast was the offensive of a wounded predator. Solona listened his verminous and malicious words, feeling as Alistair's fingers tightening around hers pressing her finger bones to each other in a painful way as the laughter became from a hushed chuckle to a loud roar. Alexius's eyes met with Solona's for a moment seeing the evil glint in it. That one glare that was not more than a moment froze the time around her. She saw a raging beast what wanted to break free from the cage of being civilized. And the words with Alexius threatened her not so long ago began to bang like the beat of a drum around her.

“I suppose there are some things money can’t buy. But there are pills for that, Alexius.” Alistair's comment melt time again that now began to rush to reach itself.

"Alistair..." Solona hissed, tugging his still painfully gripping hand.

"What?" he barked. "Should I stay silent while this fucking bastard-"

"Yes." Solona cut him off starkly, turning to the direction of the balcony where they schemed the proposal before. They stepped out into the cool air of the night chilling their heated skin. He still gripped her fingers painfully, his hand trembling around hers. "What the hell were you thinking, Alistair?" she snapped.

"That son of a bitch is lucky I did not beat him half-dead right there." Alistair snarled.

"That son of a bitch is the member of one of the oldest and most respected families of Thedas," Solona yelled, freeing her sore hand. "Do you think it would have helped Cullen in any way if you had made a scandal?"

"And do you honestly think I do care about what these fucking hypocrites will think of me? Cullen is my friend-"

"Who just proposed Evie, Alistair." Solona's voice cracked like a whip in the still silence of the balcony." What do you think, what would Lord Trevelyan have thought if you had stormed to the dance floor and knocked out Alexius? Maybe for you reputation is nothing but for these people it is everything. We are the guests of Evelyn here. Everything we do it effects on her. So please, behave and don't do anything that we would regret tomorrow."

Solona saw the lines of Alistair's face stiffening, his hand clenched into a tight and trembling fist. The crisp of his hazel eyes blazed in anger. "Fine," he growled and with a sharp move he turned striding back to the ballroom.

"Where are you going?" Solona frowned Alistair stopped, but not looked at her, just stood there, his muscles tensed.

"Grabbing some champagne," he answered, his voice low but filled with rage. And Solona couldn't decide to who he was angrier more. Her or Alexius. "For you too. Maybe drinking something will help you to pull that stick out from your neat ass. Also, you haven't eaten a single bite all day. They have cheese tastes like despair. It matches to this fucking ball." He stomped back to the ballroom, his steps filled with his wraith.

Solona stood in the middle of the balcony, trying to pacify her breathing taking them as deeply as it was possible in that corset slowing her thudding heart not to shed those tears in her eyes. She removed her mask and one of her gloves and wiped her eyes dry from unshed tears carefully to not ruin the delicately applied mascara. Her whole body was shaking. She bit her lips and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, tried everything to keep her together but her every attempt failed. She felt as an uncontrollable sob erupts from her.

They never fought. Like something invisible broke when he left her there so unceremoniously. Like a painful crack ruptured on her soul.

She walked to the railing and leaned on it, weighing on her hands, dropping her head between her two shoulders. She felt herself sick and weak the world spinning around her. She couldn't take the breath enough deep to calm down or to regain her strength. She was sure the next moment she was fainting.

“Miss Amell,” she heard the honey–glazed voice behind her and a cold shudder ran through her spine, enough to make her wake again. She straightened herself, took a last, deep and painful breath as put on her gloves and adjusted her mask. Solona forced a suave smile on her face before she turned and tried to collect her every willpower to swallow down her urge of vomiting.

"Lord Du Grace." she tweeted ad turned to him

Alexius kissed her hand, lingering on a bit more than it was proper. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight. The most beautiful rose in Ferelden. They already speak about you in superlatives.”

He wore a fox mask. How suiting. “You are too kind, Lord Du Grace,” Her voice was sweet and tinkling but she screamed inside. It was a divine luck that the mask of being civilized could conceal everything.

“Interesting night, don't you think? Filled with interesting guests. Like your escort. An infamous royal bastard.” he scoffed while that sickening smile was still on his face. “However, he is quite popular in certain places.”

“Not everybody has the decency and the discretion of a well-respected aristocrat who spiced a proposal with his quite..." she chewed the words well before they left her mouth. ”...cordial toast. Though some might consider it offensive."

"You must understand that my situation is woeful, Miss Amell. It was an act of desperation."

Solona giggled. "It must have been devastating for sure. Losing Evelyn and your all interest on the Trevelyan heirloom in one night against a pig farmer. Especially because your affection toward Evie is well-known. All your wealth and influence still you couldn't keep a silly little girl."

Alexius snickered. “Touché, Miss Amell. Has anyone ever told you that you are maybe too smart?”

“They tell me all the time.” she still smiled jovially trying to coop her unappeasable desire to slap him

"I'm more devastated about our failed co-operation. It would have been very fruitful." he purred. "A brilliant mind like you trapped within the limits of your gender and your own idealistic morals. We have that common friend, Father Solas. The people called him a golden prodigy. And what did he do with his talent? Ruined everything around him. And here you are. Another golden prodigy, who could make the world a better place but nobody will ever recognize it and do you know why Miss Amell? Because you are lack something. A very important thing that distinguish a genius from a hard working engineer. Not intelligence or perseverance or even talent." he leaned closer to her. "Something that is between my legs but not yours."

"This is a brilliant observation." Solona tweeted as bit the wall of her mouth. It felt like thousands of needles pierced her skin. She had to admit he knew how to cut deep bruises with words.

"No, this is a blatant waste of potentials," he sighed dramatically. "You know, Miss Amell, my offer still stands," he closed the distance between them and his long and bony fingers ran through her free locks of her hair lifting it to his nose and inhale the scent of it. "You are a very well-endowed woman, Solona. Talented, intelligent, assertive. You could rule the world. You and I together could defeat everything and everybody. Imagine as your fascinating vision would soar in the sky. Everyone would know your name and mine who made that all possible." He leaned over her, crowding her personal space and running his fingers along the bare skin of her arm. "Do you really let those narrow-sighted idiots to force your ambitions within the cage of their own anachronistic ideas of women? You could change the world. You and me, we are meant to be great. You are the only one who deserves wings."

She felt disgusted. She swallowed the irritation, smiled and removed his hand from her arm, dropping it. "Are you proposing a job or a liaison? I'm interested in none of them. You must be really desperate if you need my assistance," she hardened her voice a bit but it was sweet, so sweet she felt sick of herself.

"I'm a business man, Solona. I see that they will never see in you. The unlimited possibilities."

"I'm not for sale. Nor the Gryphon. You can't give me anything I do not have already. Spare me of your empty offers." she raised her arm to a dismissive gesture as she stepped away from him.

Alexius dropped his head back and laughed.“ You are just as fascinating as your inventions or your dreams,” he purred. “But ambitious dreams are so fragile before falling into the deep so easily.” he took a step toward her filled with intimidation. She was so glad that her legs did not allow her to falter. “Have you ever hunted for birds, Solona?” he whispered to her ears.

“Unfortunately, my eyes do not allow me such entertainment.”

"Once I hunted for _doves_. It was an utterly rapturing view as the bullet was piercing through the wing of the flying dove and it fell to the ground helplessly and struggled before died in agony. It was undoubtedly my best hunting.” Alexius’s suave grin was like a snarl as he stepped back from her. Like he was the predator and Solona the prey.

“I do not doubt it,” she replied, still smiling charmingly. "But wasting so much time and effort for a tiny little creature."

"Killing little things gives the greatest satisfaction, because they are harder to shoot down,” he brushed his finger through the line of her jaw. She did her best to suppress her shudder. Alexius as reached her chin lifted her face to meet his. His gaze was threatening. "I told you, Solona, I always get what I want. One way or another."

She smiled and laughed and pulled his hand from her face. "And what do you want, Lord Du Grace?"

His wicked grin widened " _Everything._ " The balcony fell in silence.

Solona narrowed her eyes and measured Alexius. She could play this game as good as him.

“Is everything all right?” Alistair asked as reached them and handled the glass of champagne to Solona. Alexius put on the mask of a proper gentleman again, taking two steps back.

“Of course, Alistair, my dear,” she tweeted like they were just chitchatting about nonsenses. “Lord Du Grace told me charming hunting stories,” she still fixed her glance on Alexius, feeling that Alistair’s towered behind her like a shield meant to protect her.

“I thought you never drink, Miss Amell,” he beckoned to the glass in her hand. Solona’s smile became wider.

“We are celebrating, aren’t we?” she asked. Alexius hummed.

“In that case…” and she grabbed a champagne flute from Alistair's hand. She felt him moving, but before he could do anything she grabbed his hand to stop him. “Let me have a toast," and he clinked his crystal glass to hers. “To your wonderful achievements, and your fascinating endowments." Solona raised her glass and took a sip, just as Alexius, their eyes on each other all the time. “The night is yours, Miss Amell, enjoy it while you can,” and with an elegant move, Alexius bowed before turned on his heels and with light steps walked away.

“What the hell was that?” Alistair hissed. “Did he really threaten you?”

Solona looked after the receding Alexius and narrowed her eyes. “It seems Lord Du Grace does not take rejection well,” and she brought down the champagne with one sip, the heat of alcohol ran through her body rapidly blurring her mind for a blissful moment.

She was fed up with that place, the nobles, the Game, the pretense, that gown on her, with everything. And the night flowed so agonizingly slow and with every moment it was harder to stay calm and charming, it was harder to keep things together. She felt dirty and wanted nothing else but a hot bath to clean the filth of unwanted glances and touches from her skin.

"I'm sorry, Sol. I didn't mean it" Alistair whispered against her hair drawing her back to his chest. "It's just... I can't protect you from these fucking bastards... and this just pisses me off."

"I can protect myself, Alistair," Solona replied turning to him. She was so tired of it. Protecting herself, protecting others, being strong and never falter. The luxury of being vulnerable, it was the privilege of Ariris. Solona had to stand up when she had fallen and go forth.

"I know," he took her hand and placed it on his chest, just right above his heart. "But allow me to try it at least."

Her heart flooded with love and also with disgust. She never needed protection. She wasn't a wilting flower that was needed to keep under a glass dome against the lightest breeze. She did not need someone who burns everything around him just to protect her. _She wasn't Ariris and she did not need a Solas._

She touched his cheek, brushing her finger through the scar she so loved on him. "I have never wanted to be with anyone in the way I want to be with you, Sol.” Alistair breathed against her skin of her palm, still touching his cheek. "I love you."

Alistair couldn't tell her this enough to be felt trite. And every time it left his mouth he heard his bitter self, the man he was months ago laughing about how sentimental he became. Alistair almost saw himself looking at him his eyes hazy by the cheap booze, his clothes unwashed, and a sarcastic smirk on his face. He became everything he so despised before. "I can't lose you:"

"I'm here, am I not? But stop acting like a pouty boy." Solona replied, but her cadence was warm and sweet. Her lips came closer agonizingly slow feeling like an eternity.

Evelyn’s soft giggle scattered them as she and Cullen approached them with the promise of the end of this too long night.

 

+++++++++

 

The air of the ballroom felt humid thick after the fresh breezes of the balcony. As they entered Solona felt that for a brief moment every eye fixed on the four of them before the nobles returned to their nonsenses or their hushed whispers about the sensations and scandals with they entertained them that night. She heard the giggles and hushed whispers saw the stolen glances like they were just some raree-show in a fair.

"Solona, my dear," she heard the familiar voice what unwittingly made her smile. "What a pleasure you see here." Astor Trevelyan approached them with a wide and genuine smile on his face. "I haven't seen you for ages. Since..."

"Since my parents’ funeral, Lord Trevelyan," Solona took the word from him politely. "The pleasure is mine," and she curtsied.

"It has been a long time," he said driving his glance on Alistair. "Don't you introduce your escort, dear?" his voice was velvety and gentle. Evelyn angrily reached out for a glass of champagne.

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry." Solona cleared her throat and slid her hands down her skirt to adjust it. "Lord Trevelyan, This is Officer Alistair Theirin, a Detective of the Denerim Yard. Alistair... this is Lord Astor Trevelyan, the..."

"The owner of the Trevelyan Industries." Alistair cut her off as offered his hand for a shake. Solona saw some disfavor in the eyes of Evie's father. She wasn't sure because of Alistair's discourtesy or the rumors of him being a royal bastard. He accepted the gesture but squeezed Alistair's hand tightly.

"So you are Solona's chosen one," Lord Trevelyan hummed. "Interesting."

"May I ask why?" Alistair inquired.

"Well, Irving and Wynne raised her with high standards." It was something condescending in his voice as looked through Alistair. "It is a shame you couldn't meet her father. He would have found you... refreshingly unconventional."

"He treats me well, Lord Trevelyan," Solona slipped her arms into Alistair's supportively.

"I hope you did not put your trust in unworthy hands, my dear." Lord Trevelyan smiled gently on her then turned to Alistair again. “I already invited my future son-in-law to come by my club called the Blue Raven. You shall join us”

Alistair slightly bowed. "As you wish, my lord.” The baron hummed as noticed someone in the crowd and with an apologetic smile excused himself.

“I’ll go ask for the carriages. I think it is enough of the nobility for one night.” Evelyn stated and worked her way through the crowd out the ballroom.

Alistair took her gloved hand and stared it. Her long and elegant finger, her thin and fragile wrist. "Maybe this is my last chance to ask.” He solemnly bowed one hand behind his back the other lifted hers to his lips for a light kiss. “Would you honor me with a dance, my lady?”

Solona nervously withdrew her hand, the heat of shame painted her cheeks to deep red. “I can’t dance.”

Alistair gently grabbed her waist and drew her close to him, closer than the etiquette allowed him or it was proper, until his lips brushed her forehead. "Dance with me, Sol," he breathed against her skin. "I don't care if you step on my toes, just dance with me, please." He practically pleaded to her. Solona smiled uncertainly as she nodded. Alistair led her to the dancefloor, followed by the still curious eyes.

The musicians began to play the Summer Waltz. Alistair knew this piece well and he even heard his tutor that her back is not straight enough. Alistair took her one hand into his, her other rested on his shoulder. He put his hand on the middle of her back, as he was taught. He always wondered why his father found it important to give him a proper education. He was just an inconvenience after all.

Alistair pressed her body closer to him, closer than etiquette allowed him to do. But as the night stretched on and on etiquette and protocol became superfluous. His hand pressed in firm against her back and guided her to match her rhythm with his body. His lips touched her forehead.

 _You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?_ A lie led to another and that would have led to many more. He wondered why he couldn’t tell her the truth. It was just a desperate and fallible moment when he saw no hope to have Solona. And Ariris was a whore after all. Still it felt more shameful that anything he had ever done. Even if she understood it would change everything. And he was terrified of change.

"You are thoughtful," Solona stated as peered up at him. "Is something bothering you?"

He spun her around and pulled her close again. His voice was low as he whispered to her. "I'm just hoping that nothing else will happen tonight. It is already too eventful.” he lied. A casual lie, but still a lie. Another one and he wondered there would come much more.

Solona hummed as closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder. "Indeed. I bet they will speak about us for years."

Alistair chuckled as guided her around the dancefloor effortlessly. Her concerns were baseless. She perfectly fitted into his arms as she perfectly fitted to him in everything. He kissed her temple and inhaled the scent of the rose in her hair, closing his eyes lost in the moment of peace.

Suddenly her legs sagged. If he hadn't held her she would have collapsed right there. Alistair looked at her, as her face slowly turned to chalk-white.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, trying his best to keep her on her feet steadily.

"I-I-I can't breathe." she heaved, her breath shallower with every word. Alistair looked around gladly registering that everybody was occupied with his own business, so he could discreetly bring her out the balcony that witnessed so many things that night, his arms firmly held her weak body..

As they stepped out he led her to the railing, placing her hands on it to give her some purchase. She could barely stand on her feet, and with every shallow breath her visage became more blurry.

"I-I will-" her legs sagged again, Alistair could barely catch her from falling. He stepped behind her and began to unbutton her dress. "Alis-tair what-?" her voice was no louder than a whisper now.

"I'm taking that fucking thing off you before it kills you." There were too many buttons on that gown.

"Do-don't ruin the gown." she wheezed. "I-it costed a fortune for Evie." Her legs sagged again and Alistair had to catch her again from falling.

"Damn with Evie," he growled and with a certain move tore the back of the dress into two. He took his pocket knife and cut the laces of the corset. Solona took a big and chocking breath and that horrid thing opened, giving room to her lungs. She coughed deeply and long. Alistair circled his hand on her bare back.

"It's all right," he whispered as kissed her shoulder blade. Her trembling slowly subsided under his touch, but she still felt very weak and Alistair was afraid to release her. He leaned closer to her protectively, embracing her from behind so tightly that he felt her still rapid heartbeat.

“What the hell is happening here?” Evelyn’s sharp voice cracked the silence of the balcony. Alistair’s jaw tensed, as slowly receded from Solona making her exposed back visible. “What the hell did you do Alistair?” Evelyn yelled “That corset was made of the finest silk and whalebone. And the gown...”

“That thing almost suffocated her,” Alistair hissed, his hands closing his hands into a tight fist, trying to swallow his anger and stay a proper gentleman he was supposed to be that night.

“Because she did not breathe properly,” Evelyn snapped. “And she wouldn’t have died just faint. What do you think why those canapés are called faint couches.”

Alistair really tried everything to suppress his rage, his fingers dug into his skin painfully, but wraith that built up in him all night long now culminated in a snarl. “Fuck you, Evie,”

“Alistair-“ Solona feebly tried to reprimand him.

“No, Sol,” he cut her forcefully. “This whole weekend wasn’t about Cullen or Ariris or Solona, it was about _you_ all the way long, Evie. The entitled little princess who wanted us to masquerade as aristocrats for her own amusement and we played our role for different reasons, but still, we played.“

“Alistair-“ now Solona’s voice was a bit more intent but still weak.

“If you had been not so fucking selfish-“ and Alistair just poured his every bitterness on Evelyn, who listened it in silence, the rim of her eyes reddening, her teeth deepening into her lips.

Cullen couldn’t decide who needed more help in that moment, Evelyn or Solona. Evelyn seemed lost and broken, Solona weak and helpless. He hesitantly stepped to Solona and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” Cullen asked worriedly.

Solona slowly nodded her head to a yes but it eventually turned shaking to a no. There was something that wanted to break free from her and she couldn’t stop it anymore. As she listened the harsh and unjust words Alistair dropped to Evelyn other voices began to scream in her mind. Solas’s voice, Alexius’s voice, Alistair’s voice, the voice of ignorant nobles whose nonsenses she had to listen all night until it all became a loud and unsufferable cacophony. “Enough,” she hissed.

“Sol-“

“I said ENOUGH!” she yelled, loud enough to draw the attention of the guests near the balcony door on them. Suddenly everything became very silent around her, even the cricket song and the serenade of the tree frogs ceased. They just stared her as slowly pushed herself from the railing and straightened. She took a deep breath, maybe the deepest she could the last few days. With a faint smile she thanked Cullen’s kindness and turned to Alistair and Evie. A She strode to the baffled Evelyn took her hands into hers and pressed a light kiss on her cheeks.

“Thanks for the night. I really enjoyed it.” She said, her voice soft and kind. Evelyn looked at her with puzzled eyes but she just smiled as turned to the balcony door tilted up her head and walked to the ballroom. The three watched her breathlessly as how elegantly she glided, like a queen.

“Alistair,” Cullen hissed.” Cover her back.“ Alistair for a brief moment was still petrified before ran after her and took his coat on her exposed back.

Every eye was on them, as she walked through the lines of whispering nobles, her glance constantly on the two winged door. She glided like she was high above them in any mean it was possible. Alistair stepped beside her and tried to catch hand but she angrily pushed it away, not even looking at him, just the door that led to the vestibule.

 

+++++++

 

As the huge door closed behind them Solona quickened her steps to the gates, to the carriages fleeing from that place to somewhere where she was hidden from curious and malicious or voluptuous leers, far from the false tunes, the prim laughs and the sound of blare clinking champagne flutes. Far from the pretense, from the Game, from everything false that these superficial nobles thought true. She wanted nothing more but the end of that night.

Alistair was behind her, watching her dashed moves as removed her mask and gloves, the way she wiped out the tears from her eyes. She fought through the night, never faltered, never broke, played her role perfectly and yet stayed herself. She was the anchor to whom everybody could hold on and yet she was the one who was all alone that night however she was surrounded by people who was supposed to protect her. She really didn't need protection. She was the shield for everyone else.

Alistair failed that night. He failed every trial he had met. And a feeling that he had almost forgotten now began to scream in him again. That he was not worthy for her. And he knew that someday soon she would realize that how empty he was and would leave him and he would return to his pathetic world of drinking and whoring. And as she strode faster this moment came dangerously close. She felt more distant with every step.

As they reached main gate Solona faltered for a moment before stepped out. He heard her something to murmur as took her steps cautiously again. And Alistair saw what she saw. Solas holding the intoxicated Ariris and pure worriedness settled on Solona's already wearied face. The way she looked into Solas's eyes and the way he responded it, two broken souls, who wanted to find their way back to each other. Her strides became slow and deliberate as walked to them. Alistair followed her but before he could even get close to them she turned to him and with a sharp gesture ordered him to stay right there. Alistair watched the angry glint of green in her eyes before he turned back to Solas and Ariris. He did not hear what they were talking about just the softness of her cadence and the broken tone of Solas's. He looked at the intoxicated Ariris sitting on the flower box, so fragile and lost and listened the intimate conversation of Solas and Solona. And he felt like an intruder in a world, where Father Solas was a decent man, Solona was the altruistic protector and Ariris the most vulnerable thing that he desecrated in so unglorified way and because of this he lied to the only one who truly saw him. He was disgusted by himself, by his lies.

Solona watched as Solas gently pull the heavily intoxicated Ariris up from the flower box and gently led her away before beckoned to Alistair.

She was silent all way long to the carriages. It was more punishing than she threw harsh words to his head. The way she ignored him, not even a scolding glare, it was more painful than a well-aimed slap. He searched for the right words but he knew that even his kindest one would be useless. He was never good at speaking anyway, but now he would give anything for some magical words that could melt her heart.

The carriage had already been waiting for them with opened doors. Solona slowly strode to it but before she got in she stopped for a moment like she waited for something.

Alistair stepped behind her and took his hands on her shoulder. "Sol, I'm sor-"

"Don't," she cut him off and with a sharp tug of her shoulder shaking his hands and his coat off her, letting it to fall to the ground and leaving her back exposed to the silver light of the moon and the curious eyes of the valets. "You’ve apologized enough for one night."


	44. Consequences

 

Morning had blessedly come, warm and caressing and gentle on the skin, full of the heady scent of musk and the remnants of soap. Evelyn blinked in her bed, and realized that Cullen had draped his arm over her, his head nuzzled in her hair. He was snoring in her ear. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. He always snored when he was exhausted. Which was all the time. She didn’t mind. It was alright if one of them snored, while also insisting that the other did too. Evelyn lay in his arms for a moment, letting the night sink in. 

 

The ball was not what she had expected. There had been one moment, one beautiful moment of bliss surrounded by a storm, it seemed. She had a good time. The proposal had saved the ball for her. But for her friends to be swept up in the game… Evelyn frowned and curled up in Cullen’s arms a little more. What had they been put through - by Alexius, by her father… by Solas. She opened her eyes. 

 

Solas. Alexius had been parading him about all night like a circus freak. Why? And then Abelas had told her about Ariris… She carefully slipped from Cullen’s arms, taking care not to wake him. Then she pecked him on the nose - her most favourite part of his face - and went to begin her first task of the day while Cullen slept in.

 

It was time to forgo the dresses and corsets. Evelyn had opted for her sword clothes instead, a vest with a skirted shirt over her breeches and boots. She suspected she knew where Ariris was. With Solas, still. And there were only so many inns that Alexius would allow to be associated with him. 

 

The inn called the Gray Wolf was a well-appointed lakeside establishment. The innkeeper had been forthcoming with Solas’s room number once Evelyn had tactfully reminded him who she was. Her knocking was loud in the quiet morning as she stood in the hallway. She steeled herself. She wouldn’t be angry. Ariris was free to make her own choices, even if Evelyn strongly disagreed with them. The door clicked open and, true enough, Solas stood there, dressed in a simple white shirt and suspenders. For a moment, Evelyn caught the briefest of glimpses of relief in Solas’s eyes before his face settled once more into that cold sneer as he looked at her. She looked around him and saw a white form asleep on the bed, a pair of bloomers and a corset hung from a stretched line before the fireplace. 

 

“Is she sober?” Evelyn asked. 

 

“Not as yet,” Solas replied. 

 

Evelyn looked up at him, her eyes cold. “So? Are you bringing her back to the house, or shall I?”

 

Solas looked like he was about so shoot off a snarky remark, which Evelyn braced for, but he seemed to think better of it. “You should,” he said. Evelyn bit back her surprise. “The entire fiasco was foolish last night,” he went on as he stepped aside to let her into the room. “What did it accomplish? Just your spectacle of a proposal?”

 

And there it was. Evelyn let the words wash over her, refusing to acknowledge them. She went to the bed instead, pulling aside the sheets to see Ariris still asleep in nothing but one of Solas’s old shirts and breeches. The clothes were too large for her, even though Solas himself was not a broad man. Evelyn began to take off her thick black coat. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Evelyn Trevelyan,” Solas croaked. 

 

Evelyn spun around, the coat bunching in her grasp. “What have I done?” she demanded. “Tell me! What have I done other than try to--” The words caught in her throat. “The proposal was not planned - not by me. But it happened. And what of you, Solas? Why did Alexius bring you there? You’re an unlikely companion to my dear ex-fiance. How does a priest from the Dregs get so close to a noble so as to warrant an invitation, hm?” She didn’t realize it, but she had strode up to him and now her finger jammed into his chest. “What exactly did he want you to do?”

 

Solas smirked. “Save his soul.”

 

Evelyn scoffed and turned away from Solas. She went back to the bed and worked Ariris’s arms into the sleeves of her coat. Ariris hardly weighed anything. “As if he has a soul to save,” she muttered. “As if you’re in any position to save any souls.”

 

“Keep her hydrated,” Solas said then as Evelyn buttoned up the coat. 

 

“I know what to do,” Evelyn snapped and straightened up. “And don’t think I believe you for a second. Saving souls my arse. Alexius uses people. What did he bring you here for?”

 

“And you would know all about using people, wouldn’t you, Evelyn?” Solas chuckled. “You who use people for your own petty little amusements. Let’s bring ‘friends’ to the ball. What fun. Who cares if they get swept up in the wake of my own machinations in the game, after all. It doesn’t matter because I feel good about myself. You and Alexius are frighteningly alike.”

 

“But of course,” Evelyn scoffed. “It’s my fault. When is it never my fault with you, Solas. Hate me any more and we might as well get married. Maker knows we fight enough to qualify as husband and wife. Just like Father and Mother.”

 

"Don't spew your parent's loveless relations at me. Clearly, you are the result of such a union. And there you go again-- inserting yourself into the most sacred spaces. For you to even say that-- do not dare mock my union"

 

"Hah!” Evelyn laughed harshly. “What could I do that could out-do what you’ve done?" She set her hands on her hips, the sight of something wounded passed fleeting behind his eyes.  Evelyn stopped herself.  “And you’ve not answered my question,” she pressed on instead. “How did Alexius come to know you?”

 

“Trust nobles to make a mystery where there is none,” Solas folded his arms. “It is no conspiracy. I lost my license and could not pay the fine. Alexius assisted. He was on the university’s board, if you recall.”

 

“Like eagles asking chickens how to fly,” Evelyn frowned and turned to work her hands under Ari’s slumbering form. Ariris let out a very un-lady-like snort. Solas stepped to the other side of the bed and smacked Evelyn’s hands away. With gentleness, he paused to make sure Ariris’s clothing was in order, carefully buttoning up Evelyn’s coat. She stared at him as she leaned her hands on the bed, trying desperately to puzzle him out. “Why did you lose your license?” she asked then. 

 

Solas smiled. It was terrifying, or would have been, if Evelyn had not been soaring on the wings of her own frustrations. “It was for unauthorised procedures,” he said, watching her with all the deliberateness of a surgeon readying the scalpel blade. “Concerning infant mortality.”

 

Evelyn’s eyes widened as the pieces fell into place in her mind. Solas and Edvard… he lost his license trying to save Edvard?

 

“And you speak of choices, Evelyn Trevelyan,” Solas said, working his arms under Ariris’s body, gently lifting her. When he continued, every word was a blade drawn down the flesh as he headed for the room door. “You wanted to give Ariris a choice she never had, and to what end? But it’s not your fault you don’t think that far ahead. After all,what would you know about choices and their consequences?  Your biggest choice in life was deciding whose bed you choose to keep warm. When have you ever held a life in your hand? Or held two, for that matter.”

 

Evelyn’s fist flared with pain as Solas staggered, holding Ariris as he caught his balance. His cheek bloomed with red from Evelyn’s strike and as he straightened up, he spat out blood. 

 

“What’s the consequence of that, you son of a bitch?” Evelyn snarled.

 

Solas only smirked, and therein Evelyn realized he had gotten under her skin. She swore inwardly, chiding herself for her own vulnerability. “And you strike me while I hold something you deep precious,” he chuckled. “I don’t think I need to say any more about what you think your ‘choices’ to be, Evelyn, other than the whims of a mewling quim.”

 

Evelyn grit her teeth, her breath hissing as she tried to calm herself. Solas snorted. “Self-control. The Maker works miracles indeed. I think you know the consequences of your choices, or you will soon,” Solas said smugly, and something cold flashed in his eyes then. “And if you are as smart as you pretend to be, Evelyn, you will be on your guard.”

 

“Was that a threat?” Evelyn growled, lowering her fist. 

 

“It was a statement.” He shifted Ariris in his arms. “Perhaps I should spell it out for you. You have crossed Alexius gravely. I neither like nor trust the man, but even a half-wit like you can see that he will have his due.”

 

“I know that!” Evelyn snapped. “I know how the game is played!”

 

“Then pay attention to your pawns, Evelyn.”

 

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “What pawns?”

 

Solas seemed to sigh, and when he spoke, his voice had the aire of a pedagogue. “Simple pieces, apparently of little worth, but powerful and valuable in their own way. And yet, so easily lost.”

 

She stared at him. 

 

“It is a mercy you are marrying someone smart, at least.”

 

Evelyn grit her teeth, her hand balling into a fist. Then Ariris muttered and snorted in Solas’s arms and the spell was broken. Evelyn looked away, cracking her knuckle to chase the pain away. Sure she had lost, but that was satisfying. “Make yourself useful and get her into my carriage,” Evelyn snapped, and headed downstairs ahead of them. 

 

++++

 

When the carriage pulled up at her manor, Ariris was still asleep. Evelyn checked her breathing often. Ari was alive, certainly, but hardly conscious. She worried about that, but there was so much to do. As if carrying a child, Evelyn lifted Ariris from the carriage and carried her into the house. No one came to met her. That was best. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel talking to Solona and Alistair, though her heart ached for Cullen. Still, she was sure he was weary of her too. The night had worn them all down. 

 

Evelyn set Ariris in her bed and carefully draped the blanket over her, tucking her in. She smoothed Ariris’s hair before looking down at her worriedly. Ari snorted again and rolled over. A footstep made her turn around. Cullen entered, seeming to sigh in relief. “There you are,” he said. “I was worried about you.”

 

_ It’s a mercy you are marrying someone smart, at least… _

 

Fuck you, Solas. 

 

She smiled up at him as he approached. “I went to get Ariris,” she explained. “Solas was watching over her last night.”

 

Cullen smiled. “He sounds the sort,” he said, kissing her hair. “He was always helpful.”

 

“Was he?” she asked, forcing the tightness from her voice. 

 

“He helped me when I was coming off lyrium,” Cullen explained. “It was a difficult time. Father Solas was always ready to offer guidance and prayers.”

 

Evelyn felt like her legs were kicked out from under her. She lowered her eyes. Cullen thought well of Solas. More people bought in by that snake’s lies. “Oh.” She decided to let it lie. “I’m a little worried about Ariris,” she went on. “She’s not waking up, but she’s snorting and snoring and things.”

 

“Best have a pitcher of water and a bucket ready for her,” Cullen said. “I’ll get those, shall I?”

 

“Could you watch over her for a while?” Evelyn said. “I have to see to our journey home.”

 

Cullen hesitated glancing at Ariris. 

 

“I know things are a little… difficult between you two,” Evelyn fretted. “But I don’t want her to be alone - what if she stops breathing? She’s never been drunk before, not ever. And she’s weak!” She clasped her hands together. “I’ll just be gone an hour or so. Please? I’ll be back as quickly as possible--”

 

He silenced her with a kiss. “Of course, pup,” he said gently. “You don’t have to fret like this.”

 

Evelyn bit her lip. “Please call the physician if anything happens. Or Solas. He watched over her all night, he’d know what to do. He’s at the Gray Wolf.”

 

Cullen frowned and took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said. “She’ll be alright, she’s just drunk.”

 

“Just in case,” Evelyn glanced at Ariris. She pecked him on the cheek and hurried out the door, leaving him in the room with Ariris slumbering on the bed. 

 

Cullen watched Evelyn shut the door behind her. She was so worried about everything. She was trying so hard to be a good host. He hoped they were good guests. Speaking of guests… He looked at Ariris asleep on the bed. With extreme politeness, knowing this was Father Solas’s wife, he checked her breathing with his finger under her nose. Then her pulse on her wrist. She was fine, but cold, her skin like alabaster. He got another blanket and draped it over her, set a jug of water and a glass by the bed and a bucket on the floor. 

 

A passing servant brought him a chess board. He’d lost solidly to Solona. This was not acceptable. Cullen set out the pieces the way she had positioned them and stared at the board, trying to work out a strategy. 

 

He didn’t know how long he sat in the balcony poring over the board, setting and resetting pieces to find a way to beat her strategy. She was an entrapment strategist, allowing the opponent to work themselves into a corner. To play defensively was difficult, at the risk of being pushed into an inescapable position. To attack was also problematic. Cullen sat with his chin in his hand, moving pieces in quiet thought. He had no idea how much time had elapsed, but soon he heard stirring from the bed. 

 

Ariris was blinking in the bright light. Cullen left his game and drew the curtains closed. “Solas?” she whispered, looking around uncertainly in the gloom that fell with the curtains drawn. 

 

“He’s not here, Mistress Lavellan,” Cullen said gently, still worried she bore that coldness towards him since dinner the day they arrived. 

 

“Why not?” she breathed, her eyes filling with… loss? Pain? Anger? Cullen suspected all three. She sat up weakly, her lips pale. He propped a pillow behind her and let her lean against it. 

 

“You’re at the Trevelyan house,” he said, filling a glass with water. He handed it to her. “Evie brought you home a while ago as you slept.” 

 

She reached out for the glass. The moment Cullen let go, the glass slipped from her weak fingers. Cullen swore and snatched up the glass immediately, pulling away the extra blanket before the water soaked through. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Ariris whispered, covering her face with a shaking hand as Cullen bundled away the blanket. “Maker, look at me. I’m sorry--”

 

“Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “It happens to all of us.”

 

Ariris fell silent, looking away. “I’m sorry to trouble you. I’ve never been so inebriated. I should never have had so much.”

 

“I take it you don’t drink often,” Cullen said, filling the glass again. He pulled up a chair this time and sat down beside the bed. She did not meet his eyes as he held the glass out to her. “You must drink water, Mistress Lavellan. You need to recover.”

 

“What’s the point?” she breathed. “I feel like I’m going to die.”

 

Cullen smiled at her. “We all wake up feeling like that after drinking, believe me. I’d like you to not die, however. It will be difficult to explain to Father Solas why I let his wife die of a hangover in my presence. I’d rather not disappoint him.”

 

She looked up at him then, her heart in her eyes, a vulnerability shrouding her. “I am not his wife,” she said tersely. 

 

Cullen felt the awkwardness bloom. “Um,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. She said nothing, just watching him. Cullen didn’t know what to say. “Still,” he tried helplessly. “He watched over you all night at the inn.”

 

“But he’s not here now,” she said softly, the loss in palpable in her voice. 

 

“Perhaps,” Cullen murmured. “Not physically, at any rate, but I’m sure you are in his thoughts.” Cullen frowned slightly, wondering if Solas had been sincere the night before, about not believing in the Maker. Maker or no, Cullen knew a man by his deeds, and he knew Solas to be helpful and compassionate, if a little strange at times. “He’s probably worried about you, wondering if you’re alright, if you’re recovering or if you’re setting yourself up for an almighty headache. You haven’t eaten anything proper as it is.”

 

“You think so?” she asked, surprise tugging at the edge of her voice.

 

“Of course. I know he was worried about me when I was recovering,” he said. 

 

“You?”

 

Cullen hesitated. “He, um, he helped me through a difficult time. He kept watch over me all night as well once. He is a good man, and he would want you to drink some water.”

 

“He is a good man,” she said quietly, reaching for the cup. Cullen helped her hold it as she brought it to her lips. She took a shaky sip and swallowed slowly. “He was always a good man. Stern but good. It’s in him like a flame, burning bright.” There was love in her smile. Cullen had come to recognize the look of it. Evie had that expression on her face sometimes. Maker knew so did he. 

 

“It is,” he agreed, holding the cup steady. “Another sip, Mistress?”

 

She sighed and took another drink. “Did you know he used to visit me often at Evelyn’s estate?” she went on, seeming to delight in the topic. 

 

“That I did not know,” Cullen said. 

 

“He used to sneak in, climb a wall to get in and visit me while Evelyn was studying. We’d sit under the willow tree and read. I’d read to him. I don’t read very well, but he listened patiently. Evelyn used to help me sneak extra scones so I could share it with him.”

 

Cullen smiled at the mental image. “I find it odd to imagine the stern Father Solas climbing walls,” he said. 

 

“They used to argue all the time, however,” Ariris sighed. 

 

“That I find easier to imagine,” Cullen said. “Father Solas and Evie are nothing alike. He likes books, she does not. She is nobility, he is common. She would make him feel small while he would make her feel stupid.”

 

“That is exactly it,” she smiled and took another sip when he offered the glass to her. 

 

“Being in the middle must have driven you to madness,” Cullen said. “Evie is noisy when she’s grumpy. And Father Solas’s sarcasm could cleave a man in half.”

 

Ariris covered her mouth slightly as she tittered. “You’re astute. It was maddening, but they tended to avoid each other after a while. Still, Evelyn would encourage the servants to turn the other way when he visited, and he never stopped visiting. Not until I finally left, of course. After our marriage.”

 

“We do all we can for those we love, don’t we? I was surprised to even hear he was married.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Cullen caught her look. “Well, I can’t imagine him… I suppose I don’t know that side of him. He’s always been a rather aloof and enigmatic priest. I was fortunate enough to experience his compassion first hand but to imagine him like me all sweaty-palmed and nervous, with my stomach twisting because she and I are stealing a kiss in my office--” He stopped, blushing “N-not that it ever happened, um. Regardless, I was, uh, quite amazed to find out you were his wife.”

 

“Because I’m a whore?” 

 

Cullen glanced at her, swallowing the surprise that rose at the sight of her strange smile. “Well…”

 

“Does that matter?” she pressed. 

 

“What?”

 

“Does it matter that I’m a whore?”

 

“To me?” Cullen blinked. 

 

“To him,” she said, her heart in her eyes. “Does it matter to him? Maybe it does. That’s why he’s so repulsed by me. Not a touch, though I am still… still…”

 

She had covered her face with her hands. 

 

Cullen was at a loss. “Mistress Lavellan--”

 

“They call me Mama,” she breathed from behind her hands. “Me whose child withered away before her eyes because I am weak. But I am mother to so many, does it matter?”

 

She was weeping now and Cullen set down the glass, pulling his handkerchief from his breast pocket instead. He handed it to her. She went on as she wiped her tears, her eyes rimmed with red. “But I am not his wife any longer,” she spat. “I’m a whore. I’m everyone’s wife, for a few hours and enough coin. I learned my manners, I only acted for the good of him. I bore him and child and--” She swallowed, her eyes misting. “I wanted to be so different, but I got exactly what I deserve!”

 

Cullen felt the heat of her words wash over him, a sirroco of sorrow and rage that poured off her. Self-loathing. It sounded familiar. It was a tune he’d danced to for many years himself. “You are still you,” he said gently. “Ariris Lavellan.”

 

“The whore.”

 

“The woman.”

 

“Why do you mock me?”

 

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Cullen said. “You are you. Being a whore isn’t you. It does not make you less human.”

 

Ariris wiped her eyes harshly, leaving red marks on her pale skin. “You must understand how hard it is for me to believe that you are sincere, Captain Rutherford.”

 

Cullen frowned slightly. “It is why you never see me at your brothel, or any brothel,” he said firmly then. “You are still Ariris Lavellan. You have people who love you.”

 

“And all of them denied to me,” she laughed, her voice hollow. “Because I am a whore, a failure as a mother, a weak shadow of a woman, I am unworthy of my husband. I am unworthy of Evelyn. I should just die.”

 

Cullen’s eyes softened. “We talked about this before,” he said gently. “Did we not? You will be missed.”

 

“By no one,” she whispered. 

 

“I cannot speak for Solas. But I know for a fact that Evelyn would mourn you greatly. I don’t think she would be able to let go. I…” He frowned. “You’ll think this silly, but I am a little jealous of you.”

 

She looked at him quizzically. “You are jealous of me?”

 

Cullen chuckled with a brittle smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You make evie laugh in a way I cannot, and soothe her in her sleep. It’s intimate.” He blushed slightly. “Er, well. A different sort of intimate than what she and I have. Deeper. I’ll probably never even begin to be that in tune with her.”

 

“Perhaps if I were gone then--”

 

“Then Evelyn would be broken,” Cullen said and sighed heavily. “I’m not sure if even I could fix that. Not after Alexius.” Silence descended between them. Cullen, ill at ease with the discomforting thoughts of his own inadequacy, took the glass and filled it with water. “I can’t convince you to live, Ariris,” he said gently. “I can only try to remind you of what your death will do.” He frowned. “Solas told me… I got really dark. Hopeless. I saw no end to my pain back then. I had gone into the church to die. I had brought a gun with me. I thought…” He scoffed. “I thought I could spit on the Maker for a bit before I died. I put the barrel to my chin. Then, there was Father Solas. He swatted the gun from my hand and asked me to give him a name.”

 

“I asked him what name he wanted. He said, ‘The name of the person you’re passing the pain to. Hopefully the one who’ll pick up your body and tithe me for the last rites.’ And I thought of them - Mia, Branson, Rosalie, Alistair… Alistair especially, that silly man. He had just lost someone dear to him. I was going to be the second death he faced in a month.” Cullen lowered his eyes. “I didn’t pick up the gun again.”

 

“You decided to live?”

 

“No, I just decided to not hurt anybody,” he sighed. “Deciding to live came later. After a long time. Father Solas kept checking on me. I am very grateful for his sharp tongue that night.”

 

Ariris reached out to his brow with a gesture that was so reminiscent of Evelyn, Cullen could not have distinguished between them. Gently, she smoothed the furrows of his brow with her fingers. “You would be the first,” she smiled at him, though her eyes remained empty. 

 

“Possibly,” Cullen smiled in return. “He does have a way with words. Like a scalpel.”

 

“But always from a place of kindness. Harsh, but kind.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m pleased that you see that,” she breathed. 

 

He held out the glass of water to her. “Dying isn’t the way to stop the pain,” he went on gently. “You’re just passing it on to someone else, new shoulders to bear the burden - assuming they can.” 

 

She took the glass on her own this time and drained it. Cullen sighed inwardly, relieved. “We can help you, Ariris,” he offered then. “You don’t have to live this life.”

 

“No,” she smiled. “You needn’t worry about me.”

 

“That makes me more worried,” he pointed out. 

 

“Perhaps. But you really needn’t. I don’t want to pass the pain on. If it must be borne, I will bear it, on my own terms. My station in life is part of it, for reasons I do not wish to burden you with.”

 

“It is no burden to share the grief of others.” Cullen smiled. “I’d gladly offer a listening ear to Father Solas - a means to repay him in a small way for saving my life. But problems bend around him. So me helping his wife out of a hangover is a good start. It’s the same as helping him, in a way.” He refilled her glass. 

 

“It is the same.”

 

“Not that I’m only helping because I owe him,” Cullen added quickly. “I would have helped you regardless, I mean, um--”

  
“I know,” Ariris’s smile was warm. “I really should pay you back for the scarf.”


	45. Chess

Cullen woke up with a snort, blinking as he felt his nose blocked. He grunted and sat up, the sheets falling from his bare body as he rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand. He looked around the room. Evie was gone. Perhaps downstairs. But he had no clothes in this room. He slowly got up from his bed, rubbing his temple sore by the  champagne and events of the previous night, trying to collect the hazy memories. The whole night seemed surreal like it was like a dream he had just woken up from.

Moving quietly so as not to wake the household, he made his way back to his own room. He entered and froze suddenly as he heard Alistair's snort resound in the room. He sighed, realizing he'd startled over nothing. He looked at on his roommate, his mouth half-opened, his saliva trickling down in narrow virulent on the white linen. The last night had been too long and too exhausting. He did not know what happened between them after Solona glided out the ballroom. But Alistair was in his own bed sleeping in his clothes, and Cullen knew that whatever happened, it was nothing good.

With sleepy steps, he stumbled into the bathroom. Scratching his stubble he stared the bags under his eyes in the mirror as sated the thought. Evelyn was his fiancée. It was still unbelievable but he smiled regardless. Evelyn was his fiancée, that was nice. The Baroness Trevelyan of Ostwick, that was a bit tricky.   
  
He poured some cold water into the basin and refreshed his worn-out face, combed his unruly curly locks into neat lines before dressed up, the brown suit that Alistair suggested earlier, neatly prepared by the servants. He raked his fingers through his hair to adjust it once again, knotted his tie as listened Alistair's unintelligible droning. Cullen had the feeling like when they stalked back from those sodden orgies back at the military school. With silent steps to not wake up Alistair, he left the room.  
  
The manor was quiet. Supposedly everyone else still had the dream of the just. Only the servants prepared the house for the morning passing beside him without a word, only casting a few curious glances.  For a moment, he stopped before Evelyn's door and wondered where she had gone in this early hour before went to the salon.  
  
Solona was there. A cup of tea in her hand, looking out the window to the neatly trimmed garden, her eyes searched something in the distance, her face toughtful and fatigue. She wore her regular decent and simple clothes, the glasses on her nose, her hair combed into a simple and practical bun, the orange and pink light of the rising sun made it flaming like fire. She was herself once again without unnecessary splendor or torturing corsets.  
  
The parquet cracked under Cullen's feet as he stepped in drawing her attention on him. As she glanced at him Solona's lips turned to a wicked smile as raised her cup.  
  
"Lord Rutherford," she said to him with genuine amusement in her voice.  
  
"Are you awake at this early hour?" he asked trying to ignore her meaningful greeting.  
  
She giggled. "Usually, by now I run one or two equation. Besides, the morning lights are too beautiful to miss them."  
  
Cullen hummed. "I would never in a thousand years think you find pleasure in things like this."  
  
She giggled once again. "It helps me think clear, "she turned with her full body to him putting down her cup on the corner table. "How is your injury?" Solona motioned toward his bandaged hand.

"I got worse," he shrugged. Solona giggled as walked to him and took his hand into hers beginning to unwrap the lint.

"What are you doing?" Cullen asked nervously.

"Checking your cuts," She answered dryly. "If even a tiny shard remained in it the bruise could get easily infected. Trust me, my mother was a physician, my brother is a physician, I know a thing or two about injuries." Cullen reluctantly nodded. Solona drew his hand closer to him and examined the cuts intently. "Anyway, I had no opportunity to congratulate about your engagement."  
   
"And I had no opportunity to express my gratitude for your help."  
  
Now she snickered. "I had hardly any credit in this. I just tossed you down the cliff. If only I would have calculated with Alexius," she pursed her lips. "But I was curious that you would have passed the test or not." Cullen raised his eyebrows to this. "It's clean." She stated as called for a servant to bring her fresh bandages that arrived only a few minutes later.  
   
"You knew it?" he asked surprised.  
  
"Everyone would have recognized it who has some intelligence." Cullen pursed his lips and felt that the heat of shame creeps on his cheeks. So Solona thought so less about him. That he was just a gullible idiot. "You shouldn't blame Lord Trevelyan, Cullen. He just wanted to make sure you are a decent man, not just some fortune-hunter who wants diddle out Evie of her money." she sated as carefully and accurately wrapped his hand into the clean bandage.  
  
"Well, apparently I'm too dumb for the games of the nobility." Cullen sulked.  
  
"You should get used to it since you will become one of them," his eyes widened and the breath stuck in him. "You didn't think this that far, did you?" she asked with the cadence of mockery.  
  
I-I never dared," he muttered, looking away. "I never even thought she would even say yes..." Solona narrowed her eyes, the green glimmer in them exquisite like she was the keeper of all secret in the universe. What was probably true. Cullen found her an enigma especially when she was with Evelyn and Ariris. Like she was one of them and yet so distant.  
  
Solona went to a cabinet taking out something. "I never liked the Trevelyan libraries," she began. "They have plenty of books, all of them untouched. And I have no right to cut them open, just watching as they silently decorate the place. Books have souls, Cullen. Keeping them on a nice oak shelf without opening them, it slowly atrophies the soul. If something is nothing else just a decorative piece of a place it kills the purpose. Cutting through the pages, opening the books. That's what liberates the soul, give purpose to it."  
  
She went to the coffee table preparing a chess board, putting the richly carved figures to their places and sat down to one of the armchairs, to the side of the black chess pieces. "I barely had an opportunity to stimulate my brain here. I heard from Evie that you are fancy in chess. Alistair is brilliant in many things but strategy games are among them. I usually beat him in ten steps," and with a gesture signaled him to sit down. Cullen's mouth turned to a half smile under his scar as he sat down.  
  
"Evie cheats all the time, making it too easy to beat her." Cullen tittered as tried to figure out his first move. "But you should see my sister, Mia and that smug on her face when she wins and she always wins. I practiced so much with my brother, Branson just to see her face once defeated," he chose a pawn to open.  
  
"Any success?" Solona asked as reached for her knight.  
  
"Nothing so far," he replied. "And I haven't played for a time now. Since..." he bit the end of the sentence. It was interesting how opened he was near her despite they barely knew anything about each other. Like she was really the keeper of all secrets.  
  
"Since?" she looked at him through the thick lenses of her glasses, her eyes glimmered like she already knew the answer. And he wondered how much Alistair told her about their past or how much she figured out by herself.  
   
"I-I rather not speak about it," he muttered. Solona smiled sympathetically and drew her glance back to the board.  
  
They played silently then. Solona was a hard one. Almost like her sister. Her every move was thoroughly considered but gave the impression of hastiness. She never lingered a lot over a step and still each gave him a headache. Cullen saw her eyes wandering rapidly on the board, he practically heard as the gears in her mind whirled faster than light.  
  
It was pleasant to play again. It recalled more pleasant and innocent times where things weren't blue when the dreams didn't turn into nightmares. It gave some strange peace to him like he wasn't at the huge salon of the Trevelyan manor, but the small living room of their farmhouse near Honnleath.  
  
"Check!" Solona said with genuine joy in her voice as her queen, rook and bishop cornered his king. She leaned back into the armchair crossing her arms and smirked on Cullen to see how he would get out from this situation.  
  
He rubbed his palms together and tried to figure out something, but it was obvious for him that this would end with his defeat, just like with her sister. And as he looked at her saw that same smug on her face, her wicked eyes narrowing challengingly. She knew she won the session and still let him desperately trying to get out from this. Cullen ran scenarios in his mind but each ended with his king knocked down in three steps at longest. He had no other option but give up or endure the humiliation. He ended up with the decision laying his own king down on the table.  
  
"Are you giving up?" she asked, her cadence slightly mocking. Cullen took a silent and defeated nod. "Actually, I am surprised that you kept going this far. You are almost as good as my father was. Beside an... "she swallowed one like she wanted to coop gagging "...old friend he was the only one who has ever defeated me. A few more years of dedicated practice and you may even make me sweat."  
  
He pursed his lips as collected the chess pieces. "Another round?" he gloated challengingly.  
  
Solona rose from the back of the armchair elbowed over the board again, resting her chin on her palm. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Maybe I have better luck this time," he said as arranged the board.  
  
She snickered. "In your dreams, Rutherford, but let's give a try. This time, try to focus on defense, not just the offensive. You've given me enough space to entrap your king while you tried to break through my defense lines." Cullen snapped his eyes on her. Did she really give him strategy tips to defeat her?  
  
"Solona," he began uncertainly as finished with the board. "That fight between Evie and Ariris at the dinner the other day. Is it a common thing?"  
  
She arched her eyebrows as slowly shook her head to a no. "Usually, it is Evie and me who are fighting. Actually, I have never seen them like this before. You made a storm in the still water, Cullen."  
  
"Were they always like this? I mean-"  
  
"Were they that close?" Solona cut him off. Cullen nodded, unsure of wanting to know the answer. "Well, they always had their own world where nobody else had place," her voice was filled with repressed bitterness and something painful kindled in her eyes.  
  
"Were they..." he swallowed one, unsure how to ask it without look like a complete idiot. "Were they close in a... romantic way?" his face became red by the heat of embarrassment as opened with the pawn again. Solona's hand reached for her knight but for some reason, her motion stopped before touching it lingered over her move just like over her answer before reached for a pawn to open.  
  
"I doubt Evie has ever thought of her the ways she thinks of you." Cullen hummed as took his turn. It was an evasive answer. A heavy silence descended on them and he had the feeling he palmed into a hornet's nest. They played some rounds like this before Solona spoke again. "Your moves are too predictable. You barely variate them."  
  
"Do you think it's normal?" he asked a bit harder than he intended. "I mean I saw something that is..." he bit the end of the sentence unsure what would be proper to say. She looked at him, her lips narrowed to a thin line just as her eyes.  
   
"Did you know that the canaries who are kept in a cage from the very early age lose the ability to fly? When you open the cage it won't fly away because doesn't know how. The canary doesn't know any other way to live."  
  
"Maker's breath, Evelyn is not a book as Ariris is not a canary..." he exclaimed. Solona with her rook knocked down one of his knights.  
  
"Indeed," she replied. her eyes on the board. "But the concept is the same. Ari has grown up under Evelyn, her mother was a servant at the estate. The only parental scheme she saw to follow was... obsequiousness. Her mother was Lord Trevelyan's servant, and she was Evie's. Evelyn was bossy and demanding. She was neglected by her father and shut away from the world. Evie and Ariris... they really did have their own world. Evie is confident and extroverted, strong. Ariris is somber to a fault, fragile. Ying and Yang. The moon and the sun."  
  
"But Evie would never..." he cut her off ardently, but Solona silenced him with a single gesture.  
  
"It wasn't Evie's fault, Cullen. She never knew any better. Ariris was a gift, a human doll. She existed only to be a playmate. But don't think for a moment that Evie did not adore Ari-- she gave her clothes, took her to learn to ride a horse, painting, dancing. But Ariris' purpose was to be... submissive to Evelyn. Ari has to depend on somebody to know her place in the world because she doesn't know how to be herself." Solona explained her almost like a teacher. "She had never wanted to leave the cage just when she found another one. Once, Evie's father gave her an exotic bird. She named it _Honeybee_."  
  
Cullen's eyes widened.  
  
"She let it out of it's cage. Ariris wept for an entire day, it was so obnoxious. She told her she had killed it. Evie thought she had given it the gift of freedom, Ari thought she had condemned it to die." Solona's voice sounded frighteningly cold and analytical. Like she just explained an experiment or an illustrative example in a book. But the warm and sad green of her eyes betrayed her. She always seemed so distant but still she cared. And Cullen began to understand what Alistair saw in her. "Ariris has always had Evelyn. Always."  
  
"She thinks I'm a threat, doesn't she?" he asked as with his queen cornered her king. "Check."  
  
"Good move," Solona hummed in her surprise. Cullen wasn't sure because of his unexpected move or that he came to the conclusion by himself, earlier than she expected. "This is an interesting observation. Ariris' husband..."  
  
"Father Solas?" Cullen cut in.  
  
"Yes. Him." Solona avoided his eyes. "Ari and Solas... there is a lot of history there. More than you'd think, and it goes back since before I can even remember. It was always said that Ari and Solas were the same entity. He was her body, and she was his soul. This is a bit too poetic for my taste, but honestly, I think it is applicable. Solas left Ariris." Solona looked up to Cullen, studying his kind but worn face. She wanted to tell him. A decade of rot pushed against her, begged to be released. She did not. "I don't know why, but Ariris loves that man so... I don't think she will ever love again. I don't think she can." Solona shook her head, sighed. "You are different than Alexius. The nature of your relationship is fundamentally different. Evelyn couldn't stand Alexius, never did. And she had resigned to a life of misery with him. I think there was a comfort, for Ariris, in that. She was miserable without Solas, and Evie was miserable with Alexius. But they had each other, the single constant in their lives.  Evelyn loves you. And soon she will be your wife. This turns everything upside down. Ariris is confused, feels herself abandoned, replaced with you. Evie has never loved anyone but Ari. And Ari has lost everything... now, I think she feels she is losing Evie."  
  
"But for Andraste's sake, this is absurd..." he burst out. Solona snapped her eyes on him, putting her knight seemingly blindly to another cell, blocking his queen.  
  
"Everything is relative, Cullen. It always depends on the perspective from where you observe things."  
  
Cullen rested his ankles on his thighs and leaned closer to her. "What do you think of all this?" Solona smiled sympathetically as shook her head.  
  
"I can't give you guidance. I can't give you the answer I haven't found in almost two decades."  
  
"This isn't an answer..." Cullen replied as made a daring move knocking her knight. Solona chuckled as with a the rook knocked the queen.  
  
"It is the best answer I can give you," she leaned back on her seat and a wide smirk settled on her face. "And checkmate," he swept his eyes through the board to see where he screwed it up now, seeing that this time he trapped his own king. She overplayed him once again. "This one was better, Rutherford. Keep trying and you will be a challenge," she mocked him and Cullen pursed his lips but eventually a soft chuckle broke out from him. She was a smug just like his sister. "But for what is worth I enjoyed the game. It was a very long time since I had somebody keeping up with me mentally. I missed it," her cadence was as gentle as sad. "Solas and I... we were close once. We often played chess together. We often had debates or we just studied together."  
  
"What happened?" Cullen asked, fixating his inquiring glance on her.  
  
"Many things," she replied flatly.  
  
"You mentioned something in Denerim. That Solas hurt Evie." Solona nodded as her fingertips touched each other before her chest formatting a triangle her eyes stared to the void like she wasn't even there.  "I knew him from before. He helped me through a grim period of my life," Solona glanced at him a very puzzling way. "The man I came to know would never do a thing like this."  
  
Solona chuckled. "As I said Solas and Ariris were like two parts of one thing. Or at least that is what was Solas thinking. In our younger days, he was obsessed with Ariris in a very scary way. And he had a very short and bad temper. He had the monomania that Evie forced her affection on Ari and she allowed Evelyn to kiss her because she didn't know how to say no."  
  
"They kissed?" Cullen explained. "But you said..."  
  
"We were young Cullen," she took back the word starkly. "We were children who had silly games. But Solas wanted to give a lesson to Evie to never touch Ari again. So he threatened her, scared her. But he overshot the mark. And this led to many other events," heavy silence descended on the salon again. Cullen tried to find words but he couldn't. Just stared Solona and she at him for a few moments that seemed hours. "It was long ago and we grew up. Solas' temper mellowed a lot through the years. He was reckless and hot-headed that time but he was my only friend."  
  
"And now?" he inquired.  
  
Solona's lips turned to a quizzical smile. "Now, he is the humble servant of the Maker."  
  
A servant came noticing them that the breakfast is ready. Cullen and Solona tumbled the board and began to arrange the figures in them.  
  
"Cullen, could you give me some answers in return?" she whispered like she was frightened that anyone else hears it. "I heard... rumors about Alistair. That he often sought the company of..." she bit her lips. Cullen saw as her teeth deepened into her flesh until he was sure that her blood would shed.  
  
"...Of lewd women for money?" She nervously pulled up her glass on her nose as nodded. "In our younger days we often laid with wanton women, however, I never paid for it. I think Alistair found the company of whores more delightful because their similar view of the world. The both were getting fucked by it. They were simpler than a girl whose name you had to remember when you woke up." Solona ran her eyes in the room nervously trying to find a place to settle, her hands slightly trembling as put the figure back to it's place.  
  
"Was Alistair always like this?" she asked. "I mean why is he hating the world so badly?"  
  
"In his childhood he had been raised hidden somewhere at the countryside before sent to military school. He never had parents just a mean distant relative who always called him a mistake of the Maker."  
  
"Maker's breath," Solona heaved. "And her mother?"  
  
"They gave her enough money to vanish and leave him to them," Cullen replied. "He was a renitent child, escaped a lot, trying to find her mother or just get the hell out of there, so the Family thought it would be the best way to learn discipline if they send him away to the military school. That's where we met. He was no better there -- the only reason why they didn't expel him his stock. The same reason Meredith why not fire him. People never saw him. They saw his father behind him. A father he never even met. Duncan was the first who didn't care about all this and saw as he was."  
  
"Duncan?" Solona narrowed her eyes.  
  
"He was his father instead his real one," he answered. "Wait, he didn't speak about Duncan?"  
  
Solona shook her head thoughtfully. "He didn't speak about many things apparently." The air became thick by heavy thoughts again in that fresh summer morning, echoing back on them in the suddenly very empty salon.  
  
"Back to the other thing. Did he-" her voice trailed off like her throat suddenly dried out. " Did he ever mentioned any who-" she cleared her throat and blushed lightly. "...courtesan particularly?"  
  
"Well, he often talked about a while lady, who was as beautiful as dangerous..." the realization just hit Cullen who was the whore Alistair gushed so keenly earlier.  
  
Solona narrowed her eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "A white lady..."  
  
"You know it was before you, don't you?" he said encouragingly. She snapped her glistening eyes to him. "And they were always nameless and faceless and he never spoke about them, well, beside that white lady, but as far as I know they never got laid. Now he can only speak about you. It can be very annoying," he sulked and a bleak laugh broke out from her. "I never say things like this but you are the best thing that could happen to him."  
  
Solona's pale and freckled cheeks slowly turned to pink as she closed the chessboard and jumped up to take it back to the cabinet. She cast her eyes down shyly as she cleared her throat.  
  
"Solona," Cullen addressed her and her move froze and she turned her head back to him. "I just wanted to thank you."  
  
"For what?" she inquired.  
  
"For the whole weekend. I don't know why Evie thought it would be a good idea dragging us down here playing the aristocrats. It was a difficult few days and we were all uptight and you were still kind to her all weekend, despite the fact she forced you that horrid thing that almost killed you." She chuckled as closed the cabinet door and turned to him.  
  
"Evelyn only wanted us to be happy," she replied. "She just did it the only way she knew. I did nothing else but thanked her kindness. She is my friend."  
  
"But Ariris... and Alistair..."  
  
"I'm not Ariris, Cullen, "she interrupted him gently. " And as for Alistair... well... I should apologize to Evie about that later." And her lips turned to a genuine smile. "And, I'm actually starving. I have barely eaten anything this weekend in that corset. So, would you join me for a breakfast?"  
  
Cullen tittered as went to the door and opened for her. "Of course, Solona."  
  
She stopped at the door and looked at him, her eyes filled with warmth and kindliness. "My friends call me _Sol_."


	46. Going Home

The Blimp Cabin was huge. Evelyn had booked them a stately sitting room with windows that went from wall to wall, their own private balcony and plush sofas. She was in her dress now, looking every bit like the Baroness she was. Evelyn wore her mask for all she was worth. “The privy is en suite,” she said, walking to the door and opening it. “Your luggage is already loaded. If you need a bed, there are areas that can be curtained off here, and bunks in the wall. Red bellpull for the concierge.” The others stood in the middle of the room watching her, looking around at the grand fittings. Ariris tottered weakly, and Alistair darted out to catch her. Without a word, Evelyn went to a bunk and pulled it down from its fitted place in the wall as Alistair helped her to the bed. 

  


“I’m so sorry,” Aririrs whispered, holding her head. 

  


“You just need water,” Cullen added.

  


“Everything in the sideboard is ours,” Evelyn said, pointing. “Sol, could you get something for her please?”

  


Solona nodded and moved to get water for Ariris. 

  


By the time Ariris was sleeping once again, the blimp was already taking off. Evelyn was glad to see that Alistair at least was happy when he hurried to the balcony with Solona, looking out as the massive blimp pulled away from its moorings. Evelyn stood numbly beside Cullen, who held her around the waist almost protectively. She glanced up at him, seeing the dark circles around his eyes. 

  


“This is amazing,” Alistair was saying. “Can you believe we’re flying?”

  


“At least I won’t have to worry about my eyes in this,” Solona smiled. 

  


Evelyn smiled and stepped away from Cullen. “Thank you, everyone,” she said then. They turned to look at her quizzically. 

  


“Thank you for coming with me this weekend,” she went on, her smile as bright as the setting sun that stained the sky golden. “I really appreciate having everyone here. You brought me a lot of joy to have you with me.”

  


She balled her hands into fists and she bowed then. A stunned silence descended. “I must apologize, however,” she breathed, the words dragged out of her by her will alone. She wanted to curl up and flee, but this had to be done. “I’m sorry for everything that happened at the ball. I should have known things would not go well. I wish they did. So I must apologize for any grief or offence the evening or… the preparations caused.”

  


She straightened up, her smile still on her face. They were staring at her. She chuckled then, her mask like iron. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t ask Solona to wear a corset nor you a mask, Alistair, nor put Ariris on a spot, nor have you being targeted by my father or Alexius. It was a mistake and you all put in so much effort just to humour me.” her fingernails were digging into her skin. They stood awkward around her, Alistair in particular not meeting her eyes. 

  


“Evie,” Cullen said softly, reaching out to touch her arm.

  


She smiled and pushed his hand away. “I’d better see to dinner,” she said, moving away from him. “Please enjoy the drinks while I’m gone.”

  


“Why not use the bell pull?” Cullen asked, catching her hand. 

  


“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, barely holding on. “I’ll be back in a bit. Wait here.” She walked out of the room, her back straight and her eyes dry, but her heart heavy with… regret. This was going to be her last ball. And she didn’t even get to see fireflies with Cullen. She gripped her hands harder and went to settle dinner with the concierge. Then, she hesitated returning to the room. They had gone through so much stress because of her. She wished they hadn’t said yes to her invitation. Perhaps that would have saved them a lot of pain. But they were so nice about it all. 

  


She turned away from the room and headed up to the deck instead. She didn’t want to embarrass herself here in the plush lobby full of nobles, and the sky air would clear her head.

  


+++++

  


The others stood in silence on the balcony after Evelyn fled. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, turning to the railing with frustration in his eyes. “Did she talk to you about this?” Solona asked, coming up to him. 

  


“Not a word,” Cullen said. “This is a surprise. I was not expecting the apology.”

  


“Me too,” Solona said quietly. She frowned. “Then she thinks it’s her fault.”

  


“It’s not her fault,” Cullen sighed. “She couldn’t have known all this would happen.”

  


“Some things, perhaps,” Alistair said, his hand tucked into his trouser pockets. “Others, though, she should have seen coming.”

  


Cullen glanced at him, his eyes hardening in the golden sunset light. “Such as?” he asked.

  


“Solona fainting for a start?” Alistair said. “Ariris being uncomfortable? The damn nobles gawking? Her father targeting you--”

  


“That had nothing to do with her,” Cullen siad firmly. “She is not responsible for the way Astor treated me.”

  


“Cullen, you were--” Alistair stopped. “No, I’ll not ruin it.”

  


“No, say it,” Cullen snapped. “What was she responsible for? For the change of plans for the engagement? For Astor’s tongue? Alexius’s abuse? She made them do all those things?”

  


“She should have expected them,” Alistair said harshly. “Made plans or something.”

  


“To what? Stop her father from disapproving of me?”

  


“She set you up  in the line of fire, Cullen!” Alistair said. “Alexius is an ass hole! But she’s waving your about publically! What did she expect to happen?”

  


“Alistair--” Solona began. 

  


“No, I’m not done,” Alistair pressed.

  


“Yes, let him finish!” Cullen snapped, his voice even and frosty. He folded his arms. “He’s obviously got a lot to get off his chest.”

  


“You’re damn right, I do,” Alistair snarled. “You didn’t deserve to get humiliated like that, Cullen! Not by Astor, not by Alexius! Why are you taking it quietly? And Solona did not deserve to be looked at like a damn side of meat. Solona did not deserve to wear that bloody corset just to pass out and not eat all weekend - all that just to be pretty?”

  


“Really? You’re angry about a corset?” Cullen snorted. 

  


“She put us all in that situation, Cullen. She put you in that situation!”

  


“I put myself in that situation.”

  


Alistair sighed heavily. “I wanted to choke him for what he said--”

  


“Good, because it was Alexius’s mouth that said those words. Evelyn, however, responded in the way of the Game. Do you think she’s pleased about this? You heard her! She only wanted us to enjoy ourselves!”

  


“Without even thinking about this rot?” Alistair scoffed. “Is she seriously that naive--”

  


“Yes!” Cullen snapped, but two voices had said the word. He glanced at Solona, glaring at Alistair. “Yes,” she said again. “She is that naive! She has a want, she goes for it. But buying things is not the same as taking people to the ball. I think she really just did want us to be happy.”

  


“You’re taking his side?” Alistair stared at her. 

  


“I’m taking Evelyn’s side!” Solona said sternly. 

  


“That makes it worse!” Alistair frowned. 

  


“No! It does not!” Solona scolded. “You’ve been nothing but critical of her all weekend. She couldn’t have anticipated what might happen - not so specifically. She would have wanted to keep us out of it. No one expected Solas to be there - and Lord Trevelyan is hardly ever present at these things. She really did just want us to be happy, but we all wound up being victims of the people who treat her poorly!”

  


Cullen was silent. Then, he sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair, turning away from Alistair. 

  


Alistair glared at Solona, understanding meeting his own stubbornness. 

  


“Can you imagine,” Solona said slowly, realization dawning in her eyes. “This is her reality. This is her life. We had a glimpse of it, were part of it for a night. This is every ball for her, and Lord Trevelyan has not changed for as long as I can remember.” She lowered her eyes. “Spoilt little princess,” She sighed as she folded her arms uncomfortably. “I’m not so sure anymore. I don’t think I enjoy her reality. It’s full of… cruelty. Indiscriminate cruelty and humiliation.”

  


The silence that descended was heavy. 

  


Alistair was frowning. “If she just wanted us to be happy, then all this was unnecessary! The dress, the suit, the--”

  


“I don’t think she knows how,” Solona said quietly. “Lord Trevelyan never so much as pat her on the back as a child. And Lady Trevelyan paraded her like a doll. They replaced presence with… presents.” 

  


“That’s true, though I never thought of it that way,” Cullen muttered, leaning on the rail of the balcony, the wind tossing his hair stained gold by the light. “She buys things. I told her to give time instead.” Cullen shook his head. “She’s learning, Alistair. I’m not defending her. You are right, she could have foreseen things and taken contingencies, she could have done things differently.”

  


Cullen’s eyes met Alistair’s. “Thank you for looking out for me,” he said softly. “I never doubted you. Just...  be gentle with her, Alistair. She’s working on it. And I do care for her.”

  


Alistair let out a noisy sigh then and ran his hand through his hair, messing it up. She stormed away from them. “Where are you going?” Solona asked.

  


“I’m going to find her,” he said over his shoulder. “And apologize.” He stopped at the door, hesitating. Then he looked back once more. “Cullen,” he added. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t-- thinking.”

  


++++

  


The upper deck was open to the sky, shaded by the blimp’s massive balloon above. There were benches up here, but few people were sitting and enjoying the sky. It was far too cold for that. Alistair shivered when he came up top. True enough, there was a small figure standing watching the sun. Evelyn was a silhouette against the sky that now turned purple in the east. Lost in thought, she did not notice Alistair approaching her until he was right beside her. Startled, she glanced at him and turned away quickly. Alistair saw the silver glints of her tears. He shrivelled up inside. He always had trouble dealing with women who cried. 

  


He cleared his throat as she touched her eyes, her face turned from him. When she turned to him, she was smiling. “Is the food there already?” she asked brightly. “I got veal, I hope that’s alright.”

  


“Veal?”

  


“Baby cow.”

  


“Oh, you eat baby cows?” he asked in surprise.

  


Her eyes looked stricken despite her smile. “Beef is better?” she asked, turning away from him. “I’ll go tell them.”

  


He caught her hand as she hurried from him. “Wait,” he sighed. She seemed to hesitate before turning to him again, her eyes glittering, vulnerable. Alistair never realized how tiny she was. “Veal is fine,” he said. “I didn’t come to talk about veal.”

  


She glanced at the steps. Alistair had the impression that she was looking to escape. “Evelyn, may I talk to you?” he asked politely as he let go of her hand. 

  


Perhaps it was because he was paying closer attention now, but he saw the slight slump in her shoulders. She nodded and seemed to brace herself. Maker, what was the matter with him? He was being… so stupid. “Alistair, about Sol,” she began. “I just--”

  


“You just wanted her to enjoy herself,” Alistair cut her off. “You wanted her to feel beautiful. You wanted her to smile.”

  


She stared at him. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. 

  


“You know when you polish a diamond you sort of end up blinding people,” he smiled. She looked puzzled at that. “I mean, she was already beautiful. I think felt…” His words failed him. He cleared his throat again and gestured for her to join him at the railing.

  


She stood beside him as he leaned his elbows on the rail. She glanced at him uncertainly, then took in the view as the sun began to sink below the horizon. “I never thought I’d be on a blimp,” he shared. 

  


She smiled. Alistair wished she wouldn’t. He could deal with scolding. Evie’s smile cut deeper, now that he knew what an idiot he’d been. “Is it like this on the Gryphon?” he asked, trying to make conversation. 

  


“Like grape juice and wine,” she replied.

  


“Was this expensive?”

  


She nodded. 

  


“Huh. I thought we were going home by carriage.”

  


“I thought after the weekend… I didn’t want to subject everyone to a day long carriage ride,” she said. 

  


“It was a good weekend,” Alistair said seriously. “It would have been better had I not been an absolute moron.”

  


There it was, the fleeting look of surprise Alistair was expecting. She said nothing, instead, resting her hands on the rail. “I don’t know you very well,” Alistair said quietly. “I mean, that’s a good thing, considering my job. You don’t want the police to know you too well. We don’t really talk much, either, do we?”

  


“We don’t,” she said softly.

  


“I just know Cullen and Sol and… Maker, even Ari I understand,” he picked at a fingernail. “But not you. I should have tried to. Should have put in effort.”

  


She laughed then. “It’s not that complicated!” she said. 

  


“Ah? I misjudged you. Do you know how terrible that is for me as an inspector? Don’t tell Meredith, please. I’m not sure how far I can push her before she finds a reason to actually fire me.”

  


“She wouldn’t fire you,” Evelyn said warmly. “And you don’t have to apologise, it’s really not your fault--”

  


“Yes it is.”

  


“No, it’s not.”

  


“Yes, it is.” 

  


She glared at him, her lip pouted in annoyance. 

  


He laughed despite himself. “Stop, you look like an annoyed mabari,” he said. He saw her face darken. “No - wait, I’m don’t mean that-- Argh, Maker.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I wanted to apologize to you, honestly. I’ve been giving you a hard time. I have my own hang ups with Sol, then Cullen’s proposal plan shocked me, I think. Afterwards, I didn’t like how the nobles behaved. Not to Cullen, or to Sol.”

  


“Or to you,” she said. 

  


“What can they say to my face that they haven’t said behind my back?” he said. “I don’t think I’m suited to the ballroom.”

  


Evelyn drew a breath and sighed. “You don’t have to worry,” she said. “I won’t be asking you to any more balls.” She smiled up at him. “This was my last one. I wanted you all to be there, but I guess it turned out terrible, didn’t it?” She tittered. Alistair was quiet, feeling horrible. “I was going to cut myself from my father’s inheritance,” she went on, turning her eyes back to the setting sun now fading behind the Frostback mountains. “So I am not going to be a Baroness any more. No more balls for me. So I just thought… Ari’s never been to one, and Abelas is truly wonderful. Solona has never really let herself see how beautiful she is. And you… I guess I wanted you to see Sol in her moment.” She laughed again. “I thought you’d all enjoy it. I spared no expense. Was money an issue if you are happy? I thought Sol could keep the corset for her wedding dress or something. And Cullen and I could walk among the fireflies, that would have been wonderful. Maybe Ariris could move on with Abelas and--” She lowered her head. 

  


Alistair saw the tears fall, drops of gold landing on the railing. “But it turned out terrible,” she cried. “Alexius humiliated Cullen, Ariris wound up back where she was and you and Solona weren’t happy at all.” She was crying openly now, her head bowed. You didn’t even want to come, but you all did anyway, because I asked. Look at what I put you through.”

  


“Evelyn,” Alistair croaked. His hand hovered over her shoulder before he lowered it. “This happened but it’s was still nice - you got engaged!”

  


“They made him do it like that!” She cried. “Father pushed him! I know it! Cullen would never flaunt anything that way.” Her shoulders shook with her sobs. “I shouldn’t have put everyone through this. Solas was right! I’m don’t think! I--”

  


Alistair turned her to him by the shoulder. “You need to stop,” he said sternly as his hands held her quivering shoulders. “Right now.” 

  


She stared at him through her red-rimmed eyes. He winced. “Evelyn, yes, bad things happened. Could you have done something different? Maybe! Still, none of that takes away from the kindness that you showed. None of it!” He shut his eyes. “And I gave you a hard time, I was such an insecure, selfish prick. And I was angry about the way Cullen was treated as well. I didn’t take a moment to even consider your feelings. Or his. Or Sol’s.” He shook his head. “The only one who should apologise is me.” He sighed heavily. “And for all the bad things, the only ones who should pay, is Alexius. Bastard insulted my best friend and his fiance in public.”

  


Evelyn sniffed, looking away. Alistair took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. She shook her head. “I have my own.”

  


Alistair pressed his handkerchief into her hands. “Cheap cotton actually grabs more tears than silk, I found,” he said, patting the back of her hand. “Let me make it up to you in some way.”

  


She chuckled, her laugh sounding genuine this time. She wiped her tears and delicately blew her nose. Alistair felt a little better upon hearing her laugh. “So…” he began, something she said tugging at his mind. “The corset was for Sol’s wedding?” 

  


“That was the idea,” Evelyn said, wiping her eyes and sniffing. “The laces were Nevarran silk. Ah well.”

  


Alistair shifted. “So, can it be fixed?”

  


She nodded. 

  


“I’ll get right on that then.”

  


“You can’t afford Nevarran silk on your salary.”

  


“Thank you for pointing that out,” Alistair grated. 

  


“You’ll just have to work hard and work your way up, don’t you?” she smiled then. “So you can afford the silk and the wedding, for Sol. It had better be Sol.”

  


“What?” Alistair exclaimed. “Who else would it be?” He stopped. “I mean-- I’m not even thinking about it! Not yet, not that she is, she’s busy and I don’t even--”

  


Evelyn’s smug, knowing smile stilled his words. 

  


Alistair glared at her. “I hate you, you’re a bad person.”

  


“Evie,” they heard then. Cullen stood at the stairs to the decks below. He glanced speculatively at Alistair and Evelyn. “The food is here,” he said slowly. He saw her red eyes then. “Is everything alright?”

  


“Oh yes,” Evelyn smiled, tucking Alistair’s handkerchief into her sleeve. “I found out that Alistair is not a complete moron.”

  


“Takes a while, doesn’t it?” Cullen chuckled. 

  
Alistair sighed. “I guess I deserved that.”


	47. Consumption

There was no choir in the simply chantry where Cullen visited. Evelyn did not sing the Chant as much as he felt she should, but Cullen continued despite the strange furore his engagement had caused. There were too many parties to suddenly attend, which irked him. Too many meetings at the gentleman’s club, where Cullen suspected Astor, now residing in Denerim, was trying to polish him up into something resembling a gentleman. And the promotion that was expedited. Cullen’s head was bowed as he sang along with the congregation, led by Father Solas.

 

The scent of incense hanging in the air always comforted Cullen and reminded him of the Maker. In a sense, he had found the Maker here, with a gun in his mouth and some harsh words. Ever since Solas had found him at the altar at his lowest point, Cullen had only… gotten better. There was hope in the little things, he’d come to see that, thanks to Solas. That healing would always be tied to the smell of incense, and this place of comfort.

 

He needed comfort now, with his suddenly even more hectic schedule. A lot of good things were happening to him because of Evelyn. A lot of opportunities were opening to him. Astor was undoubtedly taking advantage of this but Cullen could not deny that this was… good. There were rumours spread by fools, of course. Being from a family of ‘pig farmers’, apparently, marrying a wealthy woman, Cullen could not really blame them from questioning his intent. He just wished they wouldn’t gossip about it, but asking nobles not to gossip was like asking a bear not to take a shit in the woods. It felt only stranger that he would soon be mocking them while being a noble himself. At least he’d get to mock them in comfort.

 

The congregation then sat at the chant ended and Father Solas began his homily. Cullen stayed as alert as he could. It was a homily he had heard before, about forgiveness and the importance of giving it, even to those who cannot, or will not ask it. Cullen’s mind drifted. A shop was selling mangos. They were an expensive and forbidden treat. Perhaps he’d buy one. Just one. He wasn’t made of money.

 

You will be soon, a treacherous thought supplied. Cullen pushed it aside. That was beside the point and thinking of that as unworthy of him. He’d get a mango then head back to settle some paperwork before his meeting with Anora for his weekly report. He was spending too much time with Astor in that stupid club, he was behind in his reports, it was intolerable. Cullen caught Solas looking at him, his eyes singling him out in the crowd. And the homily ended there. Odd and abrupt, but Father Solas was looking pale, perhaps he was under the weather.

 

After more singing. The congregation rose to receive the sip of chantry wine, to call to mind the fire of Andraste’s pyre. It was never that strong. Cullen joined the queue. After each parishioner sipped from the rim of the chalice, Father Solas would wipe the rim with a white cloth. Cullen stepped up, Father Solas turned to replace the cloth with a clean one. He wiped the lip of the chalice. Cullen took a sip and blinked, the wine tasting more fiery than usual. Father Solas blessed him and he moved out of the line. In the chantry, someone started to cough violently, and it was perhaps that noise that made Cullen’s throat itch.

 

Another person started to cough as Cullen felt a tightness in his chest. He drew a breath, but the discomfort was there. Outbreaks of sickness in the Dregs was not uncommon. Cullen decided to leave the service a little early.

 

He was wheezing by the time he got back to the barracks, and coughed all through the day at work until the fever started to rake him. Maker’s mercy, he thought as he staggered into bed in a cold sweat, what had he caught at the chantry?

 

A few days later, after his next visit to the Chantry, Cullen felt worse. Breathing was harder, his chest always tight. In the night, it was worse. He coughed and wheezed and hated the throbbing in his head, the feeling of his throat and lungs ripping with every cough as he lay in bed. His body was clammy from fever, shivering even as he huddled under three blankets. This was intolerable. He barely even heard the door to his room opening behind him as he curled in his bed, coughing into his pillow. A hand on his forehead made him hiss, startled as he turned over.

 

“Maker!” Evelyn breathed, looking down at him as she stood by his bed. She was donned in her black coat and sword breeches, a little top hat pinned at an angle in her hair. 

 

“Evie!” he groaned, his voice a croak. “How did you get in here?”

 

“I let myself in,” she said. “I’m resourceful.”

 

“She’s also very demanding when she sets her mind to it,” said another voice. Cullen blinked, a figure standing by the door approached him with a doctor’s bag. “Hello, Commander.”

 

“Anders?” Cullen frowned, forcing himself to sit up, but the world spun around him. Evelyn pushed him back down. “It’s a little premature for my autopsy, isn’t it?” Cullen muttered. 

 

“Well, his sense of humour is intact,” Anders noted, drawing out a pair of white gloves from his bag. “If you want to call it that.”

 

“He’s burning up, Anders,” Evelyn fretted. 

 

“I’m fine,” Cullen insisted. 

 

“And he’s delirious,” she added, pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

 

“Evelyn - you shouldn’t come near me,” Cullen snapped. “I don’t want you to get this too.”

 

“He’s right,” Anders said. “Remember what we talked about? With all the cases I’ve seen in the  Dregs already, something is spreading down there.” 

 

Evelyn frowned and caught Cullen’s glare. She stepped away, hovering nearby as Anders examined Cullen, took his pulse, among other things Cullen wasn’t really paying attention to. He should be grateful. Evelyn spared him the difficulty of getting himself to the physician on his own. Anders cast Evelyn a look, packing away his instruments. Evelyn hissed. “Right, that’s it,” she growled. “You’re coming home with me.”

 

Cullen opened his eyes. “No,” he grunted. “I’m--”

 

“You’re full of it that’s what you are,” she growled. “I’ve been telling you to just come to the Borroughs for how many days now?”

  
  


“I have work to do,” Cullen frowned. “Eve--” But she was already opening the door and calling out.

 

“Captain, Sergeant, we’re moving him, after all,” she said. 

 

Cullen frowned when Rylen and Blackwall stepped into view. He grit his teeth and forced himself to sit up, swinging his legs off the bed. “I said I’m fine,” he growled. “Evelyn, I have a great deal to do, I can’t be going back and forth from the Borroughs to-- My office--” The room was spinning, someone caught his shoulders. 

 

“Slowly, Commander,” Anders said. “We wouldn’t want a concussion in addition to the consumption, would we?”

 

Cullen froze. “That can’t be what it is,” he croaked. 

 

Evelyn’s hands balled into fists, she did not turn around. Rylen and Blackwall did not meet Cullen’s eyes. They knew about this!

 

“I… suspect it is,” Anders said.

 

“You  _ suspect _ ?” Cullen exclaimed. “Is it or isn’t it?”

 

“It is similar, yet the spread of it is bizarre,” Anders said. “I only suspect. But we will take precautions. You won’t be working for a while, doctor’s orders.”

 

Cullen was silent. 

 

“We’ll hold the fort, Cullen,” Rylen said, his voice sombre. “You know we will.”

 

“Anything major we need to run by you, we know where to find you,” Blackwall added. 

 

“Just bring it by the Borroughs,” Evelyn said to them. “He’ll--”

 

“Not the Borroughs,” Cullen said firmly. “Bring me anywhere else but there.”

 

“Cullen,” Evelyn began. 

 

“I’m not giving this to you, Eve,” he said firmly. “And you’re not going to visit me until Anders permits it.”

 

She said nothing, her eyes hard. Cullen knew her mask when he saw it. But this was more important than masks. “Does that silence mean you agree?” he asked and broke into a coughing fit so hard he doubled over as the coughs raked through him. 

 

“It means we’ll argue about it later,” she said quietly, her voice tight. “But yes, for now, if he’s willing to go, we’ll let him.”

 

“I have a bed in my clinic, I can watch over him there,” Anders said. 

 

“Use my carriage,” Evelyn added. “Head off without me. I’ll pack some of his things for him and meet you there.”

 

“And my paperwork from the desk,” Cullen said. 

 

Evelyn glanced at Blackwall and Rylen, who only shrugged helplessly and went to get the work. 

 

“And my uniform,” Cullen added.

 

“Right, now you’re just being daft,” Evelyn snapped as Anders draped the blanket over Cullen’s shoulders. She headed to his table to gather some books.

 

“I need to speak to Anora in the morning,” Cullen frowned, standing unsteadily with Anders’ help.

 

Evelyn’s eyes lit up. “Are you planning on giving her the consumption too?” she asked with a delighted squeak in her voice, her hands clasped. 

 

“What? No!” 

 

“Then you don’t need your uniform.” She turned away to pack his trunk. 

 

Cullen looked at Anders for aid, but Anders only shrugged. “She has a point,” Anders said. Cullen only sighed as he was led through the door, walking hunched and coughing. As Anders shut the door behind him, Cullen heart the first quiet sob from within. Suddenly, the shame he felt had nothing to do with his weakened stature, but everything to do with the soft crying coming from his room. 


	52. Breaking

(Content Deleted)


End file.
